Dead Dread
by June Smith
Summary: After Dead & Gone, Sookie figures out her relationship with Eric. Murders at Fangtasia, Vegas vamps, Jason's love life, and Louisiana politics won't make the job any easier.
1. Monday Night

_A/N: All characters belong to Charlaine Harris and HBO._

If I had a penny for every person who tried to kill me in the last two years, I might not be a rich woman, but I would have a lot of pennies. But since the powers-that-be don't hand out cash for hard knocks, I was still busting my buns for hourly plus tips at Merlotte's.

Tonight was set to be my first night back on the job after my kidnapping. Sam was dead against me returning so soon, but I ached to go back to work. Ever since Amelia moved back to New Orleans I couldn't stand to be in the house by myself. I noticed dark crannies I hadn't before and imagined threats to inhabit them. Sometimes I thought I saw Neave and Lochlan, but mostly I felt an indistinct dread, like something was lurking just out of my sight. I figured work was my best shot at distracting myself. I would be grateful to stumble home on sore feet, smelling like cheap beer and cayenne. It sure beat the hell out of torture.

Ultimately, my plan wasn't that complicated: when the shadows start taking shape, get away from the shadows.

I pulled into Merlotte's an even five below the speed limit. The granny driving was part of my new "safety first" regimen. I was also driving Eric's corvette. I didn't want to nick the car and give him another thing to lord over me. The vamps totaled my Malibu to corroborate the "car accident" cover story explaining my injuries. Since I had to get around, Eric gave me the choice between driving his ridiculous midlife-crisis-mobile or Bill's normal tan sedan. Bill was still too sick to leave his house and his car was sitting untouched in his driveway. Even though Bill's car would have been less flashy than Eric's, I felt dirty using it, knowing he couldn't. I would also rather start real rumors about me dating a rich man than encourage fake ones about getting back together with Vampire Bill.

The decision hadn't been thrilling. Choosing between Bill or Eric's cars was really a choice between being bad-mouthed about one man or the other. When I tried to explain my reservations to Eric, he got huffy and said I should consider it an honor to be associated with him. I had a little money saved to pay off a new car, but if I knew Eric, he would insist on providing a vehicle that screamed kept woman, like an SUV or any breed of BMW. Basically something I could never have afforded by myself and indebted me to him.

I slammed the corvette door and told myself to stop thinking about Eric. Yeah, good luck. The blood bond was humming away in the back of my head, faint, but still there, like the fly you can't squash. It was just after sunset and I was sure he was awake. He was probably in Shreveport, otherwise I'd feel him more strongly. I scowled. What was I, a homing device? Self-control had never been a problem for me before. After all I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, and I had sex only occasionally. It had to be the bond. I had to make myself stop or I was going to drive myself crazier than I already was.

If Eric didn't kill me, thinking about him would.

The bar was dark except for a light in Sam's office. I couldn't wait to see him. I smiled and felt a little silly about it because I was alone in the parking lot. I missed Holly, Danielle and the rest of the girls. I even missed the work. Clearing dirty dishes and getting stiffed once in a while made me feel like I still had a place in the real world. I stepped onto the back porch and it squeaked under my foot. The light in Sam's office switched off.

I froze. Who was in there? If the last month taught me anything, it couldn't be anyone good. If Dermott was going to kidnap me again, why would he wait until I came back to work? He knew where I lived and he'd already proven he knew how to snatch me from it. I grabbed my door handle, but didn't turn it because I could feel a cluster of minds just inside Merlotte's. I couldn't hear fairy thoughts but I cast around anyway, trying to dredge up anything.

_Stay still. Goddamnit. She's going to hear me, she can't find us or it will be wrong—_

I should walk away. Or call one of the vamps. But I didn't figure I'd make it halfway back to the corvette before whatever was waiting behind that door would take me. If it was here to kill me, I wanted to see its face. I had a flash of Neave and Lochlan—her silver teeth—and I shuddered. I hoped Sam had gotten away. I opened the door. God, I could taste bile. I wished Eric were here.

"Surprise!"

Holly, Danielle, Sam, D'Eriq, Terry Bellefleur, and a pretty blonde wearing a Merlotte's T-shirt crowded into the dark hallway, clustered around a cake with candles. Sam flicked on the lights. He was holding a box of Band-Aids with a bow tied around them.

"Welcome back, Sookie," he said.

I knew I should be relieved, but my heart wouldn't stop pounding. I should have been dead.

"Oh my gosh, Sookie, you're shaking." Holly stared at me, open-mouthed.

"Am I?" I tried to play it off. "I'm just so glad to be back." I forced myself to step over the threshold. I was going to be okay. I was already okay.

They all stared at me. The blonde in particular looked really frightened. I didn't recognize her, so I figured she had to be Arelene's replacement. I scrounged for something to clear the air. "That cake is so big."

Bless his heart, D'Eriq needed no more invitation to brag. "It's my Grandma's recipe: chocolate cream and something secret. You can't get this off the menu."

As he blabbed, I started to breathe normally again. Just being surrounded by familiar faces and thoughts made me feel calmer. Holly thought I looked like hell. D'Eriq's Grandma's secret ingredient was mayonnaise. Danielle was wondering when the party would be over so she could pick up her little boy from school.

Silence settled around me. I realized D'Eriq had already stopped talking, probably a good while ago. Everyone was staring at me.

I was more out of practice being around people than I thought. I shook my head to clear it, slamming up my shields. "Thanks, D'Eriq. I've been eating hospital food for too long." Everyone laughed, so I figured I was off the hook with all of them except for Sam. I was sure he could hear my heart pounding.

"Damn, girl, you look good for a fender bender," D'Eriq said. "The hospital stitched you up right." More like vampire blood and no stitching involved, but I wasn't at liberty to tell him that.

"And what about that new car?" Danielle asked. "Is your insurance covering a corvette?"

I gave her a big smile. "They felt real bad about the accident." Danielle had given me the perfect excuse for anyone dumb or optimistic enough to believe that bottom-of-the-barrel car insurance would pay for a top-of-the-line sports car. Sam wouldn't buy it. But, then again, he knew whose car I was driving.

Danielle laughed. "Gosh, I need to get in a crash. No offense."

After a round of hugs and thank yous, I managed to slip off to Sam's office to lock up my purse.

He shut the door behind me.

"I'm sorry about the surprise, Sook. I should have known it wasn't a good idea."

I sighed. "Don't give me sorry, Sam. I shouldn't be this jumpy. I hate to be this jumpy. I was just surprised."

"You looked more than surprised." He took my hand. "Are you sure you're ready to come back? Take your time, if you need it. You've got a job here as long as you want."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm fine. Well, I'm almost fine. I'm trying. Work will do me some good."

Sam squeezed my hand. "If you think so."

"I do. I need to come back. After all the fairies and vampires and god knows what else, I gotta feel like I'm part of the real world again."

"The supes are the real world."

"I know, but sometimes I wish they weren't." I caught myself. Sam was technically a supe, although I rarely thought of him in that way. "By that, I don't mean you or, I don't know, Bill, but it would be so much easier if a lot of the others just... disappeared."

Sam cracked a smile. "I know what you mean."

He let go of my hand and pulled me into a hug. I inhaled deeply and relaxed into his arms. God, he smelled so good. I think it was Axe deodorant. Anyway, his arms were warm. I let out a big sigh. "I'm so glad to be back."

At once, Sam gave me an awkward pat on the back and pulled away. "So, you're driving Eric's car?"

I stiffened. "He offered."

Sam scowled. "I'm not criticizing you, Sookie. I'm just trying to understand."

I shrugged. "I'm not wearing his ring. He's not living with me. I needed a car, so I'm driving his."

Sam walked away from me to fiddle with papers on his desk. "You must see a lot of Eric, then."

"Not really," I said, flushing. "He comes around sometimes." Sam hunched over his papers. I picked up on a sort of snarled anger in his thoughts.

"Just sometimes?"

I sighed. Despite our half-romantic history, Sam was just about my best friend. If I couldn't tell him the truth, something was really wrong with me. "I don't know if I'd want him over more frequently than that, Sam. Honestly, I don't really know what's going on."

Sam was quiet for a second or two. "Well you should think about it." He finished with his papers and looked right at me. "There are some people who want to do right by you, Sookie."

----

Sam had given me a lot to think about. After his declaration or proposition or whatever it was, I muttered thanks, grabbed my apron and bolted out front. A few minutes later I saw Sam take his spot behind the bar. I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, but I would sure give it a grade-A try.

After my meltdown at the surprise party, I was happy with how easily I was able to get back into the swing of waiting tables. Injuries or not, I could still balance a tray like a pro and the clientele gave me an easy time of it. I got a lot of polite questions about my accident and sympathetic thoughts all around. It was easily the most popular I had ever been in Bon Temps.

I had about an hour of peace until Eric walked in during the dinner rush. I'd describe what he was wearing, but does it really matter? It was mostly black and he looked real good in it. A few of the people in the bar turned to stare and then looked away, pretending they hadn't copped a glance. Some of them peeked at me. Eric had been frequent enough fixture over the past year that his arrival wasn't totally surprising. Everyone knew he was a vamp. And everyone, of course, knew who he was here for.

Eric confirmed the rumors by sitting in my section. "Hello, lover."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "O-negative?"

"Is it on tap?"

He thought he was so bad. I rolled my eyes and came back with the True Blood.

"Too bad," he said when he saw the bottle. "You're not getting a tip."

"Don't you have an Area to run?"

"I came in for your well-wishes."

"Good luck. But don't tell me what you need it for. And it better be within the law."

"See you later tonight?"

"Sure." I was pleased he was asking for an invite and not just showing up on my doorstep. Baby steps.

Eric threw a few bills on the table. He stood up without touching the True Blood. "Then I'll wait for dinner."

Half of me said yum and the other half said ew, but most of the ew was because we were in the middle of Merlotte's and god only knew who might be listening to us. But really, I didn't have much of a reputation left to protect as far as my relationship with vampires was concerned. My squeamishness was mostly vestigial. Or delusional? Anyway, it helped me get through my shift without feeling like the slutty queen fangbanger of northern Louisiana.

Eric leaned close. His lips brushed my ear. "Later, lover."

My pulse started doing the rumba. "Okay, whatever," I said on an exhale. "Now shoo before Sam fires me."

"That will never happen," Eric said. "If the shifter fired you, he would have no chance with you." Eric kissed my cheek. I shivered, even though it was a pretty chaste goodbye by his standards. I could tell he wanted to do more, and a bad part of me wanted him to, but there is such a thing as appropriate workplace behavior. He was already standing so close it was pretty obvious to anyone watching that we'd crossed the "friend" line a few miles back.

"Eric," I whispered. "Stop. You're making a spectacle. I have to work here."

"Hush," he said. "I want you to smell like me."

"Then stop." The supes' obsession with smell was one thing I'd never get. It was just insulting-- whoever I smelled like, I wasn't property. "You better not be trying to piss off Sam."

"I have better things to do than taunt the shifter," Eric said. "You will thank me later."

Then Mr. High-handed high-tailed it. He had enough sense to pull the vamp-speed skedaddle. Otherwise, I would have kicked his fine ass out the door.

When I arrived back at the bar with Eric's untouched True Blood, Sam's scowl matched mine. "It's like watching him mark his territory."

"You would know," I snapped, even though I secretly agreed with him.

Eric and I had a few kinks to iron out before I would be willing to give whatever we had going a more official name than "whatever Eric and I had going."

----

I discovered what spawned Eric's little show when Victor Madden walked into Merlotte's a half hour later. Victor Madden believed that Eric and I were married and I guess we were—technically—at least according to the secret vampire shadow government of Louisiana, Arkansas, and Nevada. I still hadn't decided where vampire marriage stood as far as "ceremonies Sookie considers legally binding," but I sure wasn't going to let Victor in on that. Eric hadn't been over for a few nights and I probably didn't smell enough like him to support the marriage sham. If Eric had been rubbing up on me to trick Victor—and not just to give Sam an aneurism—I guess I could forgive him. Maybe.

Predictably, Victor sat in my section.

I checked that my other tables were freshly fed and watered before meandering over to the second vampire of the night. I probably stalled longer than I should have getting Andy Bellefleur extra packets of ketchup, but I was sure whatever Victor had to say would be lengthy and disturbing and I didn't want to lose any tips over it.

"How-dee-do, Victor," I said, finally forcing myself to serve to him. "Can I get you a True Blood?" I wasn't going to ask him what brought him to Bon Temps, because I was pretty sure it was me.

He sniffed. "Your Sherriff's been around lately."

Bingo. "Eric's always around." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was definitely a stretched truth.

"Where is he now?"

I could only hope Victor came in to Merlotte's looking for Eric. There was no way I was that lucky. "Maybe Fangtasia? He's probably making Felipe money sitting on that throne, glaring at some fangbangers. Have you tried his cell?"

Victor just stared at me. I took his silence as a "no" as well as punishment for daring to suggest anything so pedestrian as calling Eric's phone. Then Victor kept staring. I was sure he was doing it to creep me out, but it was definitely working, so I said, "I'll get you that Tru Blood," and hurried off. So what if Victor hadn't given me his order? He could drink B negative—our least popular flavor—and he could drink it cold.

While I was getting the blood, Sam bent down next to me on the pretense of unpacking a case of Abita. "Everything okay?"

"Please watch him, if you can," I whispered, grateful our earlier tiff was forgiven. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, Sam."

"We'll talk about that later." He shooed me and I hurried back to Count Chocula.

As soon as I arrived, Victor said, "Sookie, sit down."

It wasn't a request, but I decided to ignore his tone. "Victor, I can't take the time. My boss is a hard ass." I nodded at Sam who, bless his heart, glared at us from behind the bar.

Victor looked annoyed. "Why does your Sherriff allow you to work here?"

"We haven't talked about it," I lied. It sounded weak to me and would to anyone who knew Eric. Victor looked at if he was about to say something more on the subject so I sat down. It was a tried-and-true female tactic: give him what he wants to shut him up. "What's up?" I said. "And please make it quick before Sam throws me out."

"Has Eric mentioned the murders at Fangtasia?"

Boy, that was a sentence I could have gone my whole life without hearing.

----

Four hours later, Madden was long gone, my clean-up was done, and I was all set to head home to Mr. Dead-and-Withholding. I wasn't sure I had the energy to deal with him right now, but my choices were either to be overdramatic and rescind his invitation and swallow my pride and hear him out like an adult.

When I unlocked the door, Eric's first words were enough to make me question my decision. "It's only waitresses."

"Only waitresses?" I huffed. "I'm a waitress." I followed his voice into my living room. He was lying on the couch with his feet up, but he had taken his boots off first, so I guess that was okay.

I scowled and sat next on the sofa arm. He wiggled his toes at me. Yeah, right. There was no way he was getting a foot massage tonight. There's wishful thinking and then there's just delusion.

"These waitresses are different than you." Eric said. "I can't keep them straight. And there are so many of them."

"Right," I said. "So many of them that have been _murdered_."

"Five is not many," he replied. "More than ten may have been many, although that would depend on the period of time in which the murders took place. Ten over ten years would not be many, but ten over the course of a week…"

"Eric, why didn't you tell me?"

He glared, as if he were trying to intimidate me into rescinding my question. "It's not your concern."

I sighed. "These days, it seems like I can't avoid making your concerns mine. Especially after that stunt you pulled with the knife."

His fangs ran out a bit. I think it was angry fang and not horny fang. "If it wasn't for that stunt, you would be in Las Vegas as Felipe's personal bloodbag."

"Well, now I'm his personal Miss Marple." I scowled. "Victor and Felipe want me to find the murderer."

"I know," Eric said. "They overruled me."

That scared me a little more than it should have. I didn't like relying on Eric for protection, but at least I knew I could more-or-less trust him. If he wasn't able to hold off Felipe, who would be?

"I'm not unhappy to help," I sighed. "I would love to find out who is doing this and save your waitresses. But I don't appreciate being ordered to do it. And more than that, I'm afraid what kind of precedent it will set. If they can force me to do this, where does it end?"

"I'll think of something before it comes to that," Eric said.

I didn't know what to say, so I nodded and tried to ignore the big lump in my throat. Even though I knew Eric meant what he said, his assurance was too vague to clear the air.

Eric stared at me for a minute, totally quiet, and then pulled me down on the sofa next to him. He wasn't quite hugging me—not that it mattered because I hadn't quite forgiven him—but the closeness was nice.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to drag you into it." Eric's arms circled around my waist. "Like you said, you are also a waitress."

It was sort of sweet, but also selfish. "Eric, lives are at stake."

"Shh," he hushed me. "Pam and I have taken care of crimes in the area for years. There was no need to put you in danger. Felipe and Madden are trying to force my hand."

"Why?"

"Because they want you."

That exactly wasn't news, but it still gave me a lot to chew on. I scooted away from Eric.

I needed space. This was one of those rare, but increasingly frequent, moments when I wished I had never met the vamps. It was seemed more and more unlikely that I would ever be able to rid myself of them. What did that mean for me long-term? Did I have to tether myself to Eric forever if I wanted to avoid being Felipe de Castro's sex slave? Now it was nice being with Eric (mostly), but I had no idea how I would feel six months from now. Would I be free to make a choice?

"Don't worry," Eric said, misinterpreting my worry as a cry for male reassurance. "They can't take you thanks to my stunt with the knife," he patted my hand and grinned—horny fang this time.

God, that man. I know English was about his thousandth language and he wasn't so hot on the idioms but we had to go over the definition of "digging your own grave." I said, "Eric, I want to talk to you about that knife."

He smelt danger. In a second, Eric's expression was emptier than Jason's head on a dumb day. "We already talked about it."

"I want to talk to you again."

He stared at me, which was all the permission I would get.

"You've been alive for how long?"

"A long time."

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was being forgetful and not obstructionist. I guess when you're over a thousand the years blend together. They didn't have great counting systems back then either.

"Seventy years may not be a lot to you, Eric, but it's all I got. Well, now it's probably more like fifty." More like five, at the rate I was going, but I clamped my mouth shut on that special little doozy of optimism. Bringing up my impending death to Eric was the surest way of derailing whatever chance I had of getting him to see eye to eye. "I have to share that time with someone who realizes how special it is."

I felt his anger flare through our bond. For a second I thought he would yell and I was thrilled. I half-wanted him to be angry with me—how sick was that? But he kept his expression buttoned up tighter than a Sunday suit and said, "You are special to me, Sookie."

Well, thanks for the revelation, Prince Charming. I couldn't tell if I was actually angry or feeding off whatever was revving Eric's engine, which just made me feel worse. "You are special to me too," I said, and I wasn't lying, whatever message my clenched teeth might send. "But do you understand what I am saying to you?"

"I am trying to interpret." His tone was too even and the way he was sitting on the sofa, totally still, reminded me of those big cats in the animal documentaries waiting in the bushes to shred some passing gazelle. I had a vision of Eric pouncing on me, here of the sofa, and doing a different kind of shredding—but I shook it out of my head. _That_ was the last thing I needed to be thinking about right now.

Eric stared at me and boy, was I glad he couldn't read my thoughts. "You are concerned I do not value your life."

"I know you value my life, Eric. You value my physical safety—"

"More than you do," he slipped in.

I let his comment slide. "But seventy years means something different for you than it does for me."

"Of course it does," he said. "What else would you expect?" He paused, and must have been thinking hard, because his forehead creased. "I don't like where you're headed."

Well, I couldn't fault him for honesty. I didn't like it any more than he did and I was pretty sure it wasn't just Eric's reluctance rubbing off on me.

I steeled myself. "Look, Eric, I care about you. A lot. You know that. But our circumstances are so different I don't know if we can ever be on the same page."

He stared at me and then said the last thing I would have expected. "I agree."

I had been so ready to meet him with a snappy retort that I couldn't link up my thoughts with my voice. Luckily he took care of the silence. "I don't always like this. In fact, I most often don't like this. But I am happier when I am near you." He paused. "If you keep making me have conversations like this, that may no longer be the case."

"That would solve our problems."

Eric laughed and after I second, I did too. He took my hand. As he spoke, he traced a little circle on my palm with his thumb. "You are a liability to me. I spent months shoring up my relationship with my new masters and threw it away when I stole you out from under them. I lost one of my earners saving you from the fairies. I put my best people at risk. I didn't become Sheriff making decisions this way. And I won't be able to maintain my position if I keep doing so."

I had always appreciated Eric's honesty. Even when I hated _what_ he was telling me, I sure as hell appreciated the telling. And although I wouldn't have expected it, it made me feel better that he had as many reservations about our "relationship" as I did. "So should we end this?"

He looked at me. "Do you want to?"

My chest tightened and my throat dried up. "No," I said before I could think about it. At once, I both did and didn't want to take it back. J. C., I was going to give myself a hernia. "What do you think?"

"No," he agreed. "I'm not finished with you." And then, wily creature that he was, he did the surest thing to stop my critical wheels from turning: he kissed me.

Wow. What a kiss. I would describe it for you, but I prefer to keep some things private. I will just say that it made a very strong entry in Eric's "pro" column. "This doesn't make any sense," I muttered when he let me come up for air. "What are we going to do?"

"Let's trust ourselves a little bit," he said.

"What if we're fooling ourselves instead?"

He growled and kissed my neck. Yeah, he was avoiding my question, but gosh, it felt nice.

"So we'll just give it some time?" I pressed.

"Sure," he said, or I think he said, because his voice was muffled from the neck-kissing. A tingle ran up, then down, my spine.

I gasped. "Eric, time's easy for you. You have all the time in the world."

He looked up from the wonderful thing he'd been doing and gave me a look. I felt guilty, but only a little: maybe I set him up on that one, but that didn't make what I said any less true.

"Technically, I have half the time in the world," he said, after a pause. "I only live half-days because I'm dead at dawn." Eric's face was still stony, but I think he must have meant it as a joke. Or maybe, it was just a fact. Either way, god bless him, for the first time since I'd known him, he wasn't taking my bait.

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. "My part-time—" then I trailed off. I couldn't find a word for him. "Boyfriend" sounded so juvenile and "lover," his favorite, made me feel like I should be wearing petticoats. "My part-time man," I said. And then, because I realized "part-time" implied availability, I added, "I'm not taking other applications for the job."

He smiled at that—as I knew he would—and he grabbed me by the ankle, pulling me towards him. He began to massage my calves and as his big hands wandered up my legs I was oh-so-glad I'd worn my itty-bitty shorts tonight.

"Eric," I gasped. "You're getting me in too deep."

He smiled at me: low, lazy. It opened up his whole face. "I like you in deep." He dipped a hand under my waistband.

I swatted at him. "Stop it. That doesn't even make sense."

Eric didn't pull away. I rocked back into him and he cupped my… well, you know. "I think you know what I mean." He nudged his hips for emphasis.

Boy, did I ever. Lucky me. The one thing to say for potentially bad decisions is at least they were fun.

"Yeah, okay, keeping going." I said.

Tomorrow was another day.


	2. Tuesday Morning

I woke up later that night to find Eric hovering over me like a hungry mosquito. In some ways he was like a mosquito, just a lot bigger and blonder and he didn't die when the ground froze. My alarm clock blinked 4:11, about thirty minutes before dawn.

He ran his hand through my hair. "Good morning, Sookie."

"Goodnight, Eric," I muttered, sleep making my eyes teary. He better not be trying to fit in a nookie before dawn unless he wanted me to conk out on him. Just because my eyes were open didn't mean I was awake.

But as always, Eric had another agenda. "Why did you ask me if we should stop seeing each other?"

I sighed. I didn't want to be having this conversation at four in the morning. Actually, I didn't want to be having this conversation ever. "Now, Eric?"

"Do you care for me?"

"Yes," and I did. I cared for him big—in a lust way. Even in my sleep-addled state, my body was waking up to him. I felt warm where we touched, and when his fingers cradled the back of my neck, I wanted to stretch back and melt into him. But lust was easy, it came easy to me, and even if part of me wanted to write our attraction off as purely physical, I knew Eric meant "care" in a way beyond sex.

And I did "care," even though he scared me and wasn't always honest with me and I didn't expect him to want me when I started to sag and gray. Each night, I waited for him to come into Merlotte's and I was disappointed when he didn't. I would roll my eyes at his texts and save them all. The thought of losing him made me want to scream.

I cared for him so much it hurt. He was an ache in my side after a run, the lump in my throat before I cried: uncomfortable, but familiar enough that he had become part of the way I knew myself. I wanted him desperately, but I couldn't fathom what it would mean to "have" him. There was too much at stake—too much unknown. I wanted him so much, I felt like I had already lost him. Was that love? I hoped not, it felt sick.

I wanted to please him with my answer, because I liked it when he was happy. But, at the same time, I was afraid of admitting how much I cared because I didn't know what he would do with my trust.

"I do care for you," I finally said. He could read into that what he wanted.

"I care for you too," he said back to me. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me to his chest. If he had been human, I would have been able to hear his heartbeat.

The exchange was strange: it made "care" seem even more like a substitute for another word.

"Thank you." I didn't know what else to say.

"Don't thank me," he said, squeezing me tight. "Show me and I'll show you."

I must have drifted off to sleep after that. When I woke up the next morning—just after ten according to my alarm—the side of the bed next to me was empty, but the door to my old room was open, as was my closet door, and all of my shoes had been thrown out of the way.

I sat down in the closet and stretched out on the floorboards over the hidey-hole. "Hi honey," I whispered into the ground. I felt a little strange talking out loud—I was in the house by myself, after all—but then again, I wasn't really alone.

----

When Jason let himself in, about twenty minutes later, he found me lying on the closet floor like an idiot.

"Your bed's on the other side of the hall, Sookie," he said.

"I know that." I sat up quickly. "I was listening for termites."

Jason looked at me. "Uh huh." So what if it wasn't the best explanation ever, it was the only one I had come up with.

To my surprise, Jason had a cardboard carrier of coffee from the Kangaroo Express in Monroe. He even brought two flavored kinds, French Vanilla and Hazelnut, because he "didn't know which one I'd like best."

Someone was trying to make peace.

The least I could do was be accommodating, so I offered to fry some eggs so he would have a change to rustle up the courage to say whatever was itching at him.

When I set a plate down in front of him, Jason cracked.

"Sookie, I'm sorry," he said.

"Okay." I sat down across from him. When he set me up to walk in on Crystal, I figured we were past apologies, but after the last few weeks he'd had—that we had both had—I would hear him out.

"I realize I haven't been the best brother lately. Actually, ever." Jason's apology didn't stop him from taking a heaping spoonful of eggs. I watched him as he chewed. I hadn't really seen it before now, but the last year had really taken a toll. His face seemed more lined and his expression angled down, almost sad. "But with Crystal and Mel and the baby being gone, it's made me look at what's really important. I couldn't stand losing you, Sookie."

"God willing, you're not going to," I said. I'd come closer to death than he knew.

Jason shook his head. "I don't mean dying. These past few months, seeing you all sad and angry, it's been a wakeup call. It would kill me to live here for the rest of our lives and go on not knowing each other. I know I've been dumb, but I'll try to change. I'm just asking that you'll let me."

"Ok," I squeezed his hand across the table. "I can do that." I didn't know if he was for real, but he sounded more sincere than usual. I wanted him to be for real.

He smiled at me. "I love you, Sook."

"I love you too, Jason, no matter what you do."

Jason shook his head and started laughing. "Michele was right."

My alarm bells started ringing. "Who's Michele?"

"Michele Schubert, from town. My new girlfriend. She said I had to come over here and tell you what I think."

Huh. Well that was sound advice. I knew Michele from vacation bible school back when we were kids and remembered seeing her around Merlotte's with Jason a few times. She'd always struck me as practical and forthright, basically someone who would never want anything to do with my brother. Jason didn't have the best track record with girlfriends—he tended to pick them slutty, mean, and dumb. "How long have you and Michele been going out?"

"Two weeks, since about when the weres came out."

That was practically a long-term relationship for Jason. At once, I felt bad feeling skeptical. I should cut him some slack after Crystal. From the little I could pick up from Jason's head, he already though the world of Michele. Maybe this was the real deal. Maybe people could change. "How did you two meet?"

"Getting my teeth cleaned. She's working as a dental hygienist over in Monroe now."

"That's great," I said. "Maybe you could bring her into Merlotte's sometime."

"Well, Michele was hoping—Michele and I were hoping—maybe we could have you over for dinner." Wow. She really was a good influence. Jason had never invited me over for a meal, even when he had been married. "You could bring that big vamp of yours."

"You want me to bring Eric to dinner?"

"You're always with him." Jason shrugged like it was no big deal. "Andy Bellefleur said he saw the two of you in Merlotte's last night. Besides, I'd like to get to know the man hanging around my sister."

"Eric's not a man," I said. For some reason, I felt totally panicked. "And he doesn't eat food."

"I'd pick up True Blood, Sook. I know what to do." Jason stood up and clapped me on the shoulder. "Just think about it. Michele's mentioned wanting to see you again and I'd like to hear what you think of her."

----

"Jason wants to have a double date with Eric," I said by way of greeting when Amelia picked up the phone. I couldn't really burden Sam with this, especially after last night.

"What does Eric think?" Amelia asked. Her voice sounded clear over the phone, better than it had when she was still in Bon Temps.

"I thought I'd figure out how I felt about it before I asked him," I said. "I mean, Jason doesn't really have any clue who Eric is. I bet he thinks he's like a tall version of Bill. Eric is… so political. I can't imagine him being domestic."

"So you're afraid Eric will say no?"

"I didn't say that." In so many words. "I can't imagine him saying yes. I can't imagine what he would do."

"Do you want Eric to meet Jason?"

"They've already met." When Eric had lost his memory, which he now remembered, so it still counted. Eric would be able to recognize Jason. Probably.

"Stop dodging the question."

I sighed. I didn't know if I wanted them to meet. It felt like two worlds colliding—two that I preferred to keep completely separate for the sake of my safety and sanity. "If Eric meets Jason—as my, you know—then it is like he really is part of my life. It's not just, a thing."

"Or, you could look at it as just a getting-to-know-you dinner. Stop taking everything so seriously, Sookie. Cut yourself a break."

I sighed. Again. "God, listen to me, talking about myself. How are you? How's New Orleans?"

Amelia started chattering. Her enthusiasm convinced me that she really was doing better. Thanks to her father and his contracting business, her house was completely repaired. She had reconnected with Octavia and the New Orleans witches and was beginning to practice again as part of a coven—something I knew she had missed in Bon Temps. Amelia was still looking for a tenant to fill Hadley's old apartment. She'd taken the light-proof shudders off the windows in case the fact the apartment used to belong to a vampire spooked away some potential renters.

"I can mail the shudders up to you," she said, "in case loverboy wants to stay over."

"First a double-date and now this," I laughed. "It'd be too expensive to mail something that heavy. Eric and I can just figure something out if we decide to take that step."

"Sookie, don't be ridiculous. I'm just going to throw the shudders out if you don't use them."

"Well, what size are they?"

It took Amelia and me both about five minutes to find a tape measure and another five to measure our respective windows. Hadley's shades were a little larger than the space I had, but I figured I could cut them down or overlap them on the wall in some way, so I asked Amelia to send them. I wasn't sure if I would use them, or tell Eric about it, but it didn't hurt to have them, just in case. I'd never woken up in bed next to Eric, or anybody I had slept with. It would be nice.

"The shades will be there in a few days," Amelia said once we had the measurements all sorted.

"I'll reimburse you for the shipping."

She laughed. "Don't even think of it."

There was a small pause. I heard Amelia sigh. "I miss you, Sookie."

"I miss you too." Since we were nearing the end of our call, I could feel the house begin to loom around me. I looked over my shoulder. There was nothing there but my hallway, and light filtering through Gran's lace curtains. There weren't even any shadows. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Take care."

Then she was gone.

I showered with the bathroom door open, so I could see through my bedroom across the hall to the room where Eric was asleep. I knew it was ridiculous, but I hated feeling like I was alone in the house. Even though he was dead to the world, it was a comfort to know he was there.

Since Eric had been nice enough to stay over, I decided I would be waiting for him when he woke up. I didn't have to be at work until five and with sunsets coming in these days around four thirty, I could just about squeeze the schedule if I didn't let Eric talk me into any funny business. I could ask him about dinner with Jason, maybe, and we had to sort out our game plan concerning Felipe and the murders at Fangtasia.

I still had about three hours to kill before dusk, so I decided to swing by the library and the liquor store to drop off books and grab some True Blood.

I pulled into to Bon Temps Municipal Library just as Maxine Fortenberry was getting in her old Ford Focus across the lot.

"Hiya, Maxine," I waved. We had never been particularly close, but she was a good friend of Gran's.

Maxine acted like she hadn't heard me. I was too far away to read her thoughts but I could tell she saw me from the way she glanced out of the side of her eye. Well, people in this town had their ups and their downs with me, and if I lived by their whims I would have died a long while ago. I suspected it had something to do with the two vampires who showed up in Merlotte's last night on my account, but I wouldn't put a lot of energy into figuring out the bee in Maxine's bonnet.

I got out of the car as she zoomed out of the lot and started up to library. I had two romances to return and was hoping to find a good mystery. I had quite enough romance in my life, thank you very much, so I didn't feel like augmenting it with any of the book variety.

When I was right up on the library steps, the twenty-five cent newspaper machine caught my eye. My high school yearbook photo was on the front page of the _Bon Temps Gazette_ next to a picture of Louisiana's esteemed governor. But the headline was the real sucker-punch:

_VAMPIRE MARRIES HUMAN? GOVERNOR: NOT IN MY STATE!_

Wow. Talk about a wedding announcement.


	3. Tuesday Afternoon

I bought the paper and, I am ashamed to say, drove straight home. Usually, I wouldn't let any rumors—even _true_ rumors—keep me from going about my business, but there was a big difference between being the subject of local gossip and being denounced by the governor of Louisiana.

It was two hours until Eric woke up.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I pulled up to my house and found my driveway empty. Not that I really expected a stake out, but it would just be one more thing to add to my growing roster of crises.

As soon I walked in the door, the phone rang.

It was Sam. "Did you see the paper?"

"Just got it, but I haven't read the article. How bad is it?"

"Just political posturing," Sam sighed. "It probably won't go anywhere, but with the governor's election coming up in the fall anything touching on vampire rights is going to be blown up into an issue." Sam was quiet for a second. "I wish you hadn't gone and married him, Sookie."

"He married me," I snapped, knowing it amounted to the same thing. But technically, it was true. I hadn't gone to the altar with my eyes open.

"Well, Louisiana's going to do their best to divorce you. Or ship you off to Vermont," Sam said.

I felt angry for a second and then it all filtered away as this total exhaustion overtook me. I decided to tell Sam everything. I didn't even care if Eric would be angry. I needed Sam's advice, and more than that, he deserved to know.

"The marriage is the only thing that's keeping me from being sent to Las Vegas."

Sam didn't say anything for a second. Then, "What exactly is going on, Sookie?"

"You'd better come over. I'd rather tell you in person."

I put on some coffee and read the article while Sam drove over. The courts had legalized vampire-human marriages in Louisiana for a last September, whipping conservatives like the Governor into a fury. The Governor's people managed to get an amendment on next November's ballot to shut down the marriages. They were out for blood, and not in a vampire kind of way.

According to the article, the Governor's Challenger in the upcoming election had somehow learned that vampire-human marriages were being performed in Shreveport. The Challenger had pulled the fact out in the televised speech I hadn't bothered to watch last night, presenting the marriages as an example of the Governor's lax moral policies.

When a reporter asked him about it this morning, the Governor had flipped a big one and gone so far as to call my marriage criminal . Sadly (for me), his Challenger had taken pretty much the same line.

After this exchange, an anonymous source "close to the parties involved" had alerted the _Bon Temps Gazette_ that the human in question was "Sookie Stackhouse, waitress, Bon Temps, Louisiana" and she'd married "prominent Shreveport-area vampire Eric Northman" in "a private, illegal, ceremony." When asked for comment, the Governor's office said they were considering legal action. The article ended on a speculation as to whether or not we'd be arrested.

Gosh, I sure hoped not.

Why vampire-human marriages were worse than all the perfectly-legal vampire-human fornicating going on in Louisiana, I couldn't fathom, but no one had asked me and I figured that shouldn't be my first sound bite to the press if I wanted to come through this alive.

I didn't think the Governor could actually do anything. Vampire-human marriage was perfectly legal in Louisiana, at least until November, and the ceremony hadn't even been state-sponsored. People got married in strange religious ceremonies all the time. I didn't see how the business with the knife was all that different from a legal point of view.

I counted all the people who knew Eric and I were married. It was the opposite of a long list: Sam, Pam, Tara and Victor. I wondered who the anonymous source was. Not. It was about as obvious as teenage breakout. But why did Victor, and by extension, Felipe, wanted the world to know Eric and I were married? Was he just screwing with us? No, there had to be something more. In my experience, vampires were always deliberate. It just killed me that whatever Victor's plan was, it was probably moving right on schedule.

An hour and a half until Eric woke up.

I heard wheels crunching on my driveway and breathed a sigh of relief when Sam knocked on the door. He pulled me into a hug. "It will be ok, Cher."

"Thanks." I hadn't realized how much I needed to talk to another person. I let the tension roll out of me, even if it was only temporary relief. "Do you want some coffee?"

----

Sam and I sat at the kitchen table and I told him everything. He already knew about the takeover, but I had been so mad at his reaction to my news that Eric and I were married I never told him the real reasons behind the our "wedding."

"He married you to keep you as a political asset?" Sam, naturally, did not see the silver lining. "Sookie, that's unbelievable. He owns you now."

"Owning is strong," I snapped. "And if Eric didn't do what he did, I would had to have left Louisiana. I would have left you. I would be trapped in Vegas, reading minds for—probably no money—basically a prisoner."

"You should have come to me," Sam growled.

"What could you have done?"

Sam shrugged. "I wouldn't have let them take you."

I took Sam's hand. "I couldn't have lived with myself if anything happened to you. And I didn't even know Eric was marrying me until after it was done. Probably because he knew I wouldn't have let him, if I did. But I didn't have any other options." I sighed. "I still don't." Especially now that Niall was gone, not that I would bring my grandfather into anything lightly again, after the kidnapping.

Sam squeezed my hand. "We'll get you out of this. I don't know how, I don't know what to do, but you've always got me, Sookie."

"I've got Eric, too," I said. I made sure to keep hold of Sam's hand. "I know you don't want to hear this, Sam, but you should. I care for him. I know it's crazy because the vamps will kill me, or even if they don't, its not like there's an 'us' that could go anywhere. I even have the Governor of Louisiana telling me it's a bad idea. But I can't help feeling—something—for him. And I know he would protect me, even though he's his number one customer."

Sam's forehead creased. "You trust him?"

"Yeah," I said, realizing it was true. "Maybe not completely, maybe not with my—I don't know, love—but I trust him with this. He won't hurt me."

"Okay." Sam shook his head. "I'll buy that he won't hurt you, but I think it's because he's protecting his asset."

"Sam—"

He cut me off. "Look, I'm not going to stop telling you what I think. And I think Eric is a bad idea. But, I trust you, because in all our years together—well, you have a good head on your shoulders—and if you feel this is right, I respect that. But, Eric—" he stopped himself. "Well, I just hope he's as trustworthy as you say."

I laughed. Nothing was funny, but I was feeling desperate. "Yeah, me too. Thanks, Sam. Don't stop telling me what you think."

Sam laughed too. "I don't need an invitation, Cher. You should make your own plans independent of him. Don't put all your eggs in one basket."

"I'll have to talk to him when he wakes up," I said. "He'll know more about the vamp side of what's going on that I do."

Sam frowned. "He's here?"

I didn't know if it was a big faux pas to reveal a resting vampire was on the premises, plus it told Sam that Eric and I had been together last night, but Sam knew I had kept Eric here before and I trusted him as much as I trusted myself. Maybe more. "Yeah."

"Then I better go," Sam said. "You have enough to talk about without me around."

I walked him to the door. I couldn't lie that my conversation with Eric would go better if there wasn't another man in the house. "See you at five."

Sam stopped. "Please don't come in today, Cher."

My first impulse was to walk into work like nothing was wrong and ignore all the inevitable nasty thoughts, but Sam had a point. "I'll think about it," I said. "I'll talk to Eric and I'll call you."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

"Thanks for coming over." I hugged him.

Sam patted me on the back. "Thank you too, for being straight with me."

----

I went upstairs, put on my Merlotte's uniform—just in case I decided to go in—pulled my hair into a ponytail and spent fifteen minutes tweezing my eyebrows. It was something to do and I really didn't want to think about the shitstorm waiting outside my front door. When I couldn't tweeze anymore without looking one of Claude's strippers, I swiped on some pink lipstick and went over to my old room to wait for Eric. I brought the paper with me, but turned it over so I wouldn't have to look at the front page.

The back was a full-page ad for Dillard's, which just made me think of Claudine.

I started to cry.

Eric woke up about twenty minutes after Sam left.

I was through with the worst of it, but my eyes must have still been red because it was the first thing he mentioned. "What's wrong, lover?"

I smiled. I wanted to put off telling him. I felt like as soon as he knew, it would actually be real. "Just missing you."

"Sweet," he said, "but untrue."

I opened my arms and he climbed into my childhood twin bed with me. His feet were too long for it. "There's been a news flash while you slept," I said.

Eric kissed me. Mmm, God, he made me feel like jelly. This man was like a drug. Where was that when I needed it two hours ago? "Good news?" he asked. He kissed down my neck. He was obviously far more interested in me than the news.

"Let's stay like this forever," I whispered. "We'll never go outside. You can kiss me and we'll lie here and make love until we break and just stay still."

Eric stopped. He looked at me. I would forget how blue his eyes were until he looked directly at me. "If you really want that, I will have to turn you."

It was like a bucket of ice water. "No," I said and had to scoot away from him.

Eric wasn't offended. He looked merely curious. "I won't do it," he said. "I already promised you."

"Just look at the paper, please," I said. I handed it to him. I didn't hate vampires, but the idea of becoming one made me feel sick. It wasn't because I believed all the stuff the Fellowship and other church groups were saying about loosing souls, or anything so literal. I felt this deep aversion that I couldn't exactly put into words, even to myself. The best way I could describe it was that I needed to experience life. I didn't want to age and die, but I also wanted to feel everything between now and that inevitable unknown moment later down the road. I wanted to change and grow and live. It couldn't be too easy. It wouldn't feel real. It would be a half-life. Wasn't that how Eric described his existence the other night? I live half-days, he said, or something like it. At the time, I thought he was just being cute, and maybe he was, but being a vampire made me feel like I would have been half-alive. I didn't want things to freeze. Knowing I was going to die someday made the minutes seem even more precious. Urgent.

On some level, I was also afraid that Eric would break his promise not to turn me. When he and I disagreed, he always found a way to do what he wanted anyway.

"This is a nice picture of you in the paper," Eric said after a few minutes. "You look young and ripe."

There were days when I almost forgot I was dating a vampire and then he would go and say things like that. "Did you read the article?" I snapped.

"Yes."

"And?"

Eric set the paper aside. "I know you do not enjoy being married to me, Sookie. But this might work in our favor."

Eric didn't understand the gravity of the situation. Vampires never understood the power of human authorities. The state government might not be 'supernatural' but they could definitely do significant damage. "How could this work in our favor? The Governor of Louisiana is issuing a warrant for our arrest."

"Number one, he could never arrest me," Eric said, "or you," he added, seemingly as an afterthought. "I wouldn't let that happen. Number two, the fact we've been outed publically would make it suspicious if you suddenly disappeared. Or surfaced in Las Vegas."

"You think Felipe is behind it?"

"There is no one else who could be behind it, unless you think the shifter is so lovelorn he's become vindictive?"

I shook my head. That was crazy.

"Felipe is trying to get the Fellowship to bomb Fangtasia, or murder me, or have Louisiana divorce us so he can steal you away to Vegas. I do not know." Eric shrugged. "We will find out, it will be fine." He gestured at the paper. "This is clumsy enough he cannot be thinking clearly. No one should rely on humans to do their work for them."

I didn't like the dig at humans and I suspected Eric was being dismissive to make me feel better. Nevertheless, it was working. I _did _feel better. I tried to push it away. It wouldn't do me any good to relax into a false sense of security. "Listen, Eric, if we are really going to do this, if I'm going to go outside and face the music, I have to know what this marriage means. I don't know the rules and when I asked you before you wouldn't tell me."

"What do you want the rules to be?"

"That wasn't my question."

As usual, he ignored what I was saying. "If we were married, to your specifications, what would you want the rules to be?" When I didn't reply, he tried again. "Humor me."

I felt so frustrated. I didn't like that he was asking me to define the terms of my confinement. Real marriage wasn't supposed to be this political, although I figured it probably was this much of a slog. My romance novels always ended with the wedding bells and the white dress and left out the real work. "I don't need to be married to care about you, Eric. And I don't need a set of rules imposed from the outside to dictate what should be an understanding between us. Marriage doesn't mean a lot to some people. My brother's wife threw it out the window."

Eric frowned. "I am trying, Sookie. If you tell me, I will listen."

I resented that he was giving me permission to speak, but I guess when you're in command so often, the habit of being in charge dies hard. I just couldn't decide if I should encourage his high-handedness by actually talking to him. Maybe we should just divorce before Louisiana made us do it.

"I want you to be faithful to me." The words were out of my mouth before I knew I'd said them. God, if I was asking for this, it meant we were really doing it. "I don't know half of what goes on at Fangtasia and I'd prefer to keep it that way, but if we're going to be together—really together—I don't want to share you."

"I want you to listen to me," he said, taking me by surprise. "You value your independence and that is one of the things I value about you, but your constant suspicion hurts me, and more importantly, it endangers you."

"I can take care of myself," I said.

"I know," he smiled. "I wouldn't want you if you couldn't."

"I want you to listen to me too," I said. "Not just humor me. There are a lot of things you do that I'm not comfortable with, Eric. You're used to getting your way and being in charge, but if I'm going to do this, I have to be an equal partner."

He looked at me for a second, then nodded. "There are no rules with the knife," he said, "other than what vampire custom dictates about others supernaturals approaching you."

A weight lifted off my shoulders. "No magic?"

"No."

"No rules?"

"I thought you agreed to listen, lover."

"It's just what you and I decide?"

He smiled. "Yes, it's just us."

I would have kissed him, but Eric peeled my top off over my head first. He was already naked from last night. I ran my fingers through his hair, then grabbed a chunk. He scooped me up and flipped us on the bed so he was lying on top of me. The mattress squeaked. I certainly hadn't given it this kind of treatment when I was sleeping in here as a teenager. Eric buried his head in my chest and kissed the top of my breasts. The bed was too small. We were a tangle of limbs and sheets.

"I want to be married to you, Sookie," he said. "I did it to keep you from Felipe and to keep you near me, but that doesn't change how I feel." He wasn't looking at me. I don't know if it was on purpose.

"Eric, it's okay." I pulled him up to me, so we were face-to-face, and I kissed him. I hadn't wanted to marry him, but maybe I was all right with it now.

I fumbled with the button on my shorts, but Eric just ripped them off. "Sorry," he said. He wasn't. Neither was I.

I could feel him press into me. I kissed his shoulder. I wasn't entirely ready yet, but I wanted him closer. "Come on," I said. Eric pushed into me and my headboard slammed against the wall.

I started laughing. Eric paused. "What is so funny?"

"Eric, this bed…"

Eric smiled and took that as permission to continue. The bed hit the wall and the mattress let out a geriatric groan.

Then a regular pounding started. I looked at Eric, but he'd also frozen. It took me a second to realize that somebody was banging on my front door.

"Sookie Stackhouse, this is the Louisiana state police."

Well, shit.


	4. Tuesday Evening

"Where the fudge are my clothes?"

I never curse if I can help it, but in that moment, I sure wanted to.

Eric nodded at the remains of my shorts. He'd ripped them right down the middle and they were lying on my bedroom floor, angled in two different directions like the halves of a heart. Seeing them like that just about broke mine.

The police kept knocking. "Miss Stackhouse?"

"I'm coming!"

Eric tried shush me. "Why do you want to talk to these people?"

"I'm not going to be a fugitive." I had visions of Harrison Ford running away from Tommy Lee Jones at night in the freezing rain. There was no way I was going to experience that personally.

I yanked open my closet and started scrounging for pants, a dress… anything. I grabbed an old robe of Gran's spangled with embroidered roses, then shoved it back. I wasn't that desperate. After another second or two, I found a pair of running shorts and Bon Temps Panthers T-shirt I hadn't worn since high school gym. They were a little tight, but decent. Mostly. At least I was still wearing my bra. My girls were a little too excitable to face the world alone, if you know what I mean.

Gran was turning over in her grave. I should have picked the robe. It was more modest. She would have wanted me to pick the robe.

Who was I kidding? She wouldn't care about the robe—she wouldn't have wanted me to be in this situation in the first place.

Eric sat on my bed, totally naked. He wasn't moving. "I could have gotten us out of here." Yeah, like a big naked flying vampire _wouldn't_ have attracted attention. Eric was white enough he could have given the moon a run for its money.

"You don't have to come with me," I said. "But I'm going to answer that door." If they didn't break it down first.

With that, I marched into the front hallway to face the Louisiana State Police.

As I opened the door, I caught the State Police officer mid-knock. Andy Bellefleur stood behind him, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but on my doorstep. The feeling was mutual. I noticed Andy's eyes flick me up and down, taking in my outfit. He thought I looked half-dressed and wondered if Eric had anything to do with it.

Great. Just great. I should have picked Gran's robe.

"Hi Andy," I nodded. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

The State Police officer was wearing a suit and dark glasses. He was obviously not your average trooper and in that getup, he looked more like Tommy Lee Jones than I was comfortable with. Did the state police have a special ops division? I sure hoped not. I told myself to stop being ridiculous. If the officer actually was special ops, he probably wouldn't have brought Andy Bellefluer along. I hoped. I dipped into the officer's head to try and figure out his game.

He was thinking about my boobs.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop him from speaking to me. "Miss Stackhouse?" I nodded. Mr. State Police had moved beyond the chest region and was looking me over for a wedding ring. He flashed a badge. "I'm Sergeant W.H. Thaller of the Louisiana State PD. Detective Bellefleur and I have a few questions, if you'd be so kind."

I wasn't really "so kind," but I decided to let them in. I could have stalled by saying I had to go to work, but even then, the excuse would only hold them off a day or two. I also wanted to figure out how much Sgt. W.H. Thaller of the Louisiana State PD knew about Eric and me. Maybe he was the one Victor had contacted about the marriage.

"I'm in a hurry to finish some errands, but I have a couple minutes. Come on in. Living room is on your right," I said as they filed past me. "Can I get you some tea?"

"No, that'd be—"

Thaller trailed off.

Eric stood smack-dab in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed, wearing the old robe of Gran's I had rejected. It just covered his knees. If it wasn't already obvious we'd been interrupted having sex, it sure was now. I wanted to die. Next to me, Andy Bellefleur felt about just the same way.

I had agreed with Andy more in the last two minutes than the rest of our lives combined.

"It's been a long time since I've had the pleasure of meeting policemen," Eric said, smiling unnaturally, so that he flashed all his teeth. He looked like the big bad wolf. At least his fangs weren't down. Although, on second thought, I discovered the lack of visible fangs scared some people more when they first met vampires. It messed with their expectations. It's easy to avoid the guy with big honking canines, but it gets harder when he looks like you or me.

I was surprised to overhear that Eric was the first vampire Thaller had ever seen. The best way Thaller could think to cope was by reciting the twenty-third psalm in his head. Oh please. If Thaller thought Eric was bad like this, he should try living with him.

"Living room is on your right," I prompted. I had a feeling Thaller could go all night if I didn't speed this along. There were a hundred and fifty psalms. With my luck, he knew all of them.

As Thaller stumbled towards the living room, still valley-of-the-shadow-of-death-ing, Andy took a good long look at me. I stared right back.

Andy thought I had a death wish. Maybe he was right.

Eric grabbed me before I could follow them into the living room. "If you insist on talking to them, I won't let you do it alone."

"This is your idea of moral support? Put on some pants."

Eric shrugged. "I didn't wear pants until the fifteenth century."

This was another one of those times I didn't know if he was kidding or just telling me a strange truth. He was in the doghouse either way.

I couldn't bring myself to engage constructively with Eric, so I walked past him. He followed me into the living room and shut the door behind us.

Then, to my surprise, he locked it. It was then that I realized Eric had a method for handling police.

----

"Intimidation" was a mild way of describing what happened in the next five minutes.

Eric's behavior made me even more convinced that he was some kind of vampire mobster, but I would be lying if I didn't admit how good it felt watching him toy with the cops. I'd been harassed by Bud and Andy so many times in the last few years, the reversal felt sweet. Probably a little too sweet.

When we sat down—Eric in the very middle of my very largest couch—Thaller explained he had been sent to Bon Temps to gather information to keep the Governor "appraised" of the "marriage situation." He asked Eric, very politely, if he might bother us with some questions.

Eric didn't say anything. That should have been a clue.

Eric's tactic was simple. Basically, he shut down every line of inquiry with monosyllabic answers: Where did you meet? "Shreveport." How long had you known each other? "A while." How would you describe your relationship? "Personal." Every so often, he'd give Thaller a look that said the next question would be his last.

Eric's one-word answers made me reconsider how evasive he had been last night when I asked him how old he was. They proved what I suspected: Eric's reticence was a tactic. I felt better about his caginess now that he wasn't directing it at me, but I would have to call him on it in the near future.

A few times, Eric would stretch on the pretense of shifting his weight. I knew vampires didn't fidget like normal people, so I figured he was putting it on to let them get a sense of how big he was. Thaller and Andy got the message quick.

Eric taking charge gave me a chance to poke around in Thaller's head. It took me about thirty seconds to figure out that he wasn't lying about his reasons for coming to Bon Temps. Thaller's usual beat was Capitol security detail in Baton Rouge and the Governor had sent him find out as much as he could about the marriage.

Thaller planned to report I was a bimbo, Eric was a gangster, and nothing good could come from associating with us. He would recommend that the Governor distance himself from the scandal as soon as possible, instead of making an example of us and associating his name with what was bound to be a legal battle fit for the tabloids.

That sounded fine to me. In fact, I couldn't have hoped for a better outcome.

Andy Bellefleur, on the other hand, was convinced Eric was in charge of some kind of vampire blood drug ring and I was a glamoured junkie drug mule. I was a little offended he didn't think me capable of being a mastermind along with Eric, but the whole idea was pretty stupid anyway, even if I had to give Andy points for creativity.

Andy would probably flip a shit if he knew Eric was actually a lawman. Since Eric's Area included Bon Temps, he and Andy were almost colleagues.

When Thaller was in the middle of a rambling question about Eric's business associates, Eric looked over to me. I glanced around to make the police weren't peeking and mouthed "Victor." That was the last dangling thread.

"I work with Victor Madden," Eric said, cutting Thaller off. "Victor Madden and Felipe de Castro." It was easily the most forthcoming he'd been since the cops had sat us down.

I tuned in to Andy and Thaller to see if the names meant anything to them. Andy was busy imagining busting Eric's drug ring in the Merlotte's lot while the whole town watched. He was wondering if he would need silver handcuffs.

I hadn't expected much from Andy, but Thaller didn't recognize Victor or Felipe either, which came as a disappointment. Thaller was thinking about writing the names down to check later, which wasn't great for us, in case Felipe did have a contact in the Governor's office.

When Thaller started to ask a follow-up question about Victor and Felipe, I nodded at Eric. We'd learned enough and it was time to get them out of here. They weren't a threat. With Andy and Thaller staring straight at him, Eric couldn't really nod back, but he gave me a significant look and popped his fangs.

Thaller's eyes fixed on Eric's mouth. He stopped talking. Thaller was thinking about his two young daughters and wondering if he'd see them again. He was broadcasting louder now that he was frightened. I'd never heard emotion affect the volume of someone's thoughts before. It was interesting, but not so interesting I wanted Thaller to stick around.

"I'm going to get Eric here a True Blood," I hopped up, trying to look perky. "We usually eat around now. Do you want to stay? I don't know what we have for normal food, but I bet there's something in the freezer."

Thaller's girls were Celia and Katherine. Pretty names. He cleared his throat. "We don't want to trouble you during dinner."

"Any more questions, call my lawyer." Eric's voice was a little muddled by the fangs. He pulled a card out of the pocket of Gran's robe and tossed it on the table. I saw Mr. Cataliades's name.

Eric had the time to grab Mr. Cataliades's card, but not his pants? Maybe he chose the robe on purpose to scare the police.

It hit me. That was exactly what he had done. Vampires were deliberate and Eric was no exception.

I knew Eric had intimidated police officers before. He'd probably done it lots of times. If I was going to be honest with myself, the show he put on for Andy and Thaller must be G-rated compared to his usual game.

I wasn't sure how I felt about my revelation. Not great.

"Follow-up questions won't be necessary," Thaller said, but he took Cataliades's card anyway. "Andy's got this under control. Anything more can go through him."

Andy looked grim. He and I hadn't always seen eye to eye, but we'd come a long way in the last year or so. I didn't want him to walk away thinking Eric was going to break into his home and drain him in the middle of the night. "I don't think we'll have any questions," I said.

After a round of eager goodbyes and disingenuous thank yous, they were gone.

As soon as the front door slammed, Eric relaxed back into the couch. His fangs retracted.

It was the first time in a long time I'd seen him in Sherriff-mode. He acted differently when it was just the two of us. Was that a good or bad thing? I liked being valued, I didn't want Eric to treat me like Andy and Thaller, but I also didn't want to be with someone who treated me like a person and others with little or no care. Sam, Alcide, and Quinn had all been horrified at the idea of me being with Eric—beyond what seemed like normal jealousy. Was that because they were used to the person I'd just seen?

I knew Eric was capable of much worse than what he'd given Andy and Thaller. I also knew he was capable of loyalty, bravery, great tenderness, maybe even love. Who was Eric, really? His public face or the person I'd grown to know? Of course the answer was both. But I couldn't allow myself to care about one side of him and ignore the rest.

Which begged the question of why he'd pulled out the macho act. He hadn't wanted to speak to the police. He could have stopped me from talking to them. Instead, he followed my lead. Well, sort of. He followed my lead in the most obnoxious way possible, but that was Eric.

He hadn't intimidated them because he enjoyed it. He hadn't even wanted to engage with them. He did it to protect me. Maybe he did it to show me he cared about me. In a weird way, I could almost rationalize the episode as him being thoughtful.

I climbed onto the couch next to him. I'd exhausted myself with thinking, and when I rubbed it all away, I felt almost tender toward him. I tugged at the tie on Gran's robe until it opened. "Thanks for scaring them for me."

Eric looked at me. "You're not angry?"

I shook my head. "It kind of turned me on." Oops. That was not the message I should be sending. "But Eric, you can't go around intimidating everyone in our way—"

He kissed me before I could finish qualifying.

I shelved the discussion about morality.

----

After Eric and I christened the living room, I filled him in on the little I learned from Thaller and Andy, then called Sam to tell him I wasn't coming in, to which he'd said "good" and let me know that everyone in Merlotte's was talking about the article in the paper. He also said there'd been something about my marriage on the local news out of Shreveport.

So it was spreading. I was glad Sam told me, but I didn't feel better knowing it.

Before I hung up, I asked Sam to give Andy Bellefleur a cheeseburger on the house if he showed up to Merlotte's. Andy was in and out of drinking so often, I figured food was safest.

Eric insisted on heading over to Fangtasia and asked me to come. While I wasn't so hot about the idea of going out in public, I was even less enthused about waiting around in my house without Eric for the Fellowship, a mob, or Dermott to show up. I hardly ever had normal visitors, and that was doubly true after nightfall.

To show how unhappy I was about him dragging me out, I put on a totally Fangtasia-inappropriate blue and white gingham dress that I usually wore to church. I completed the outfit with a pair of white heels Tara had set aside for me during her summer sale. It was months before Memorial Day, but sue me. Rules about clothes were for debutantes and members of the Junior League.

About an hour and a half after Andy and Thaller left, Eric and I made it out the door. I tossed him the keys to his corvette on our way and he caught them one handed.

Eric was wearing his clothes from last night, but managed to look as fresh as I felt on a good day. It probably had something to do with not sweating, or ageing, or having any bodily functions. I wondered if vampires did laundry, then got mad at myself for thinking something so stupid. Of course they did laundry. Their clothes weren't immortal.

"You look delectable, lover," Eric said. He bent over me and sniffed my neck as we walked to the corvette.

"I'm not food," I said, even though I was pretty pleased with the compliment. I could have done without the sniffing.

He just laughed and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. When we reached the car, Eric walked me backwards until I was pinned up against it. He ran his hand up my leg. The night was so chilly, his fingers felt warm in comparison. It reminded me of the first time we'd been out together, when we went to that orgy. I shivered and it wasn't from the cold.

"I'm thinking of our first date, lover," he said, pushing me back against the hood of the corvette.

"That wasn't a date," I said, but I kissed him anyway. Eric laughed against my lips.

Kissing him there, against the car, made me remember something else about the night of the orgy. It came back like a flash and made me so upset, I pushed Eric away.

"I have to make a stop before we go to Shreveport."

Eric pulled back. He looked confused at first, but then I guess he got it. His eyes narrowed. "He is still coming between us."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "He deserves to hear it from me, especially if it's on the news."

"He doesn't know how to work a television." Eric left me sitting on the hood of the car and yanked open the driver's door.

I slid off the corvette, adjusting my skirt. At least there was no one around to flash. "He can use a computer better than you. Or me. He definitely knows how to use a television. Stop being jealous. You don't have to come with me."

Eric sighed and put the key in the ignition. "Yes, I do."

So I got in the corvette and we drove up Hummingbird Lane to Bill's.

----

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Hope you're enjoying this as much as I am. Next up, Bill and Fangtasia, but not together, thank goodness. Remember those murders at Fangtasia? Neither does Sookie…_

_All characters belong to Charlaine Harris and HBO._


	5. Tuesday Night

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying this. All characters belong to Charlaine Harris and HBO._

----

We turned into Bill's driveway. Gravel crunched under the corvette's tires and crickets chirped outside. Eric had the radio on KDED.

"That was Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers with 'Straight into Darkness.' I'm Connie the Corpse and here's one for all you old timers out there."

The opening strings of "Strangers in the Night" drifted into the corvette. Eric pulled in behind Bill's sedan and put the corvette in park.

I stared at the back window of Bill's car. It was covered in pollen. The car probably hadn't been washed in a month. All the lights were off in the house. How sick was Bill?

"I think it will be better if I go in alone." I had been worried about how Bill might react to our news; now I was more worried about Bill himself.

Without looking at me, Eric got out of the corvette and started up towards Bill's house.

"Eric!" I slammed the car door. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course I'm listening," Eric said. "I just disagree."

"Can we have a conversation about it?" Eric took the porch steps two at a time. He didn't turn around, so I followed him up the stairwell. "Bill will be upset if you are there," I said. "And I know you want come so you can monitor what I say to him. And lord over Bill."

Eric bent down to pick up the pile of newspapers outside the front door. The _Bon Temps Gazette_ with my picture on the front page lay at the top of the pile. "I am Bill's Sherriff. Therefore Bill is my asset. I have a responsibility to keep him in line and maintain a usable relationship with him. It is my job. When you tell him, I will have to be there. However, that conversation does not need to be tonight. That was something you insisted on. I am happy to postpone this talk to another occasion, perhaps when Bill has recovered his health."

I stared at him. He stared at me. I looked at the newspaper under Eric's arm: _VAMPIRE-HUMAN MARRIAGE? GOVERNOR: NOT IN MY STATE_. I couldn't let Bill find out from a headline. "Fine," I said. "We'll do it tonight."

Eric pulled a plastic baggy full of advertisements and coupons off of Bill's door handle while I tracked down the house key Bill kept under his mat. The last time the Bill, Eric, and I had been alone in a room together was in New Orleans when I found out the truth why Bill returned to Bon Temps.

That felt like a bad omen for tonight.

Eric didn't need an invitation to enter another vampire's home, so he followed me in. He set the newspapers and advertisements down on Bill's hall table, leaving the front-page story about us on the top of the pile. I almost asked him to switch it, but decided it wasn't worth the fight.

I had only seen Bill once since he had been poisoned. Amelia and I visited after Tray Dawson's funeral. When we arrived, Bill and Pam had been watching television in his living room. I thought it was strange, since they didn't get along that well, until Pam griped about Eric making her play nursemaid.

Bill had looked terrible. His face was pinched and his skin looked loose, almost like it was slipping off his face. He'd been drinking straight out of a blood bag of the type hospitals use. He apologized several times and explained that his body was too weak to handle True Blood. I hadn't minded the blood bag and neither had Amelia (although I wondered where it came from), but it had been difficult to see him so weak, especially knowing that he injured himself trying to save me.

I switched on the hall light. "Bill?" I called out. There was no answer. He was probably resting. I started up the stairs to his bedroom.

Eric opened the door to the basement. "Sookie, come back. He's down here." Eric pitched his voice lower than usual. I assumed it was so that Bill wouldn't overhear. "Bill is too weak to move by himself. He sleeps in the basement so he can stay put dawn comes. Pam and Indira have been looking in on him, bringing him blood."

I couldn't believe Bill was living in his crawlspace. It couldn't be comfortable. It couldn't be helping with his condition. It also effectively cut him off from the world. "So he couldn't have heard the news about the marriage," I said.

Eric shook his head. "I doubt it. I tried to tell you earlier."

"No you didn't," I whispered. "You said he couldn't use a television. I would have reacted differently if you said Bill was sleeping in his basement."

"You would have come, anyway," Eric said and there was the problem, out in the open: If I had known Bill was so sick he couldn't leave his basement, I not only would have come, I would have come a lot sooner. I wondered if Eric withheld the information from me on purpose. "Are you still going to tell him?"

"I don't know. It depends how sick he is. " Just so we were clear, I added, "I'm still going to see him."

"All right." Eric's face was perfectly blank, like it had been with the police, but I felt a low current of anger thrum through the bond.

I stared at him and tried to push the anger back at him. If Eric didn't want me to see Bill, I wanted him to tell me. Or I wanted him to give me an excuse to scream at him so I could confront him about withholding news about Bill's condition. Pushing anger through the bond felt like trying to push wine out of a corked bottle. All my emotions folded back on themselves and I only succeeded in making myself mad.

I stared at Eric. He stared back at me. "Well?" I said. He didn't react, so I brushed past him and took a step into the basement. It was pitch dark. "Bill? It's Sookie. I'm here to visit you."

"Sookie," something croaked from the darkness below. I could only imagine it was Bill. His voice was usually so rich. If he'd been a human today, he would have been a great radio DJ.

"I'm coming down," I shouted and took a step into the darkness. After three or four stairs when I couldn't see anything ahead of me, I turned back toward the hall. "Eric, could you see if there's a flashlight in the kitchen?"

Eric was silhouetted in the light from the hall. "Sookie, Bill is a vampire. I am a vampire. All of Bill's visitors , aside from you, are vampires. Of course there's no flashlight." He stepped onto the stairs, closing the door behind him and enveloping me in darkness. It was the first time I had been shuddered up inside a room where a vampire spent the daytime. A shiver ran down my spine. This is what light-tight felt like. It was so dark I couldn't even tell where the wall was. If Amelia had sent Hadley's shades, this is what my bedroom might feel like.

I felt Eric brush past me on the stairs. "Take my hand, I'll lead you." He sounded exasperated and I could feel his annoyance through the bond.

"Okay," I said. It wasn't my fault I couldn't see in the dark. Eric grabbed my palm, but I hesitated.

"You have to step down, Sookie," Eric's voice was close to my ear.

"I don't know where the step is." Other than the exact piece of ground directly below my feet, I had no idea where anything was. I didn't want to move. I knew intellectually that Eric wouldn't let anything happen to me, but that knowledge was useless in terms of controlling my fear. I tried to take a deep breath, but it came out more like a sob.

Eric interlocked our fingers and his voice softened. "Move your foot. I can see you completely. You're fine."

I moved my foot until I couldn't feel the floor any more, and then brought it down. I knew it could only be a fall of six inches at most, but I couldn't see it for myself. Everything on both sides of me was black. I couldn't tell where the wall was, the floor, Eric—it was like stepping into a void.

I practically fell onto the step and slid into something hard. Eric. He put his hands on my shoulders to steady me. Before I could thank him, he said, "This will take all night."

My good will evaporated. "Then let's get moving, because I'm seeing Bill." This was Eric's penance for not telling me about the extent of Bill's injuries. "Give me your other hand." I waved my free one around. I accidently hit either Eric or the wall. Probably Eric, because he kind of growled, then grabbed my palm. "Walk in front of me backwards, lead me down."

Eric didn't say anything, so I assumed he hated the idea. Mr. Uncommunicative. When I said things he didn't like, he usually pretended not to hear me or changed the subject. "You're a vampire, please just do it," I said. "Next time, I'll bring a flashlight."

Eric was quiet. I head the whirr of a radiator. "Try to move when I do," he said finally. The first step was another trip and stumble. The next one was a stumble. Then we evened out. After the tenth step, I was confident he would get me to the bottom of the staircase.

Even though I had felt Eric's hands hundreds of times, I had never spent any time just holding them. They were calloused. It was kind of wonderful to realize his calluses must have formed over a thousand years ago and had been preserved all this time. What were they from? Holding a sword? I rubbed my thumb over his palm. Now didn't seem the time to ask, with Bill out there in the darkness.

"Remember when we pushed Pam's coffin out the window?"

"It was the first time I'd been in the sun in hundreds of years," Eric volunteered, surprising me.

"This reminds me of it. I led you through daytime, now you're my eyes in the dark."

He laughed. "Sweet." Him saying it made it feel less so. He didn't say anything else and I didn't either because now I felt self-conscious. In the silence, I became hyperaware of my own breathing, and the fact I couldn't hear Eric's. Because he wasn't actually breathing. Bill used to pretend.

"You saved my life then, but you know that." Eric said suddenly. He must have not wanted Bill to overhear him, because he was speaking quietly.

I didn't want to talk about saving Eric's life. It would get us on the subject of debts, which was never a good place to go with him. "Tell me about seeing the sun. What was it like?"

"Bright."

That was not the answer I had been hoping for. "It looked bright to me too."

"It's different for vampires," he said. "It's brighter. But you knew that too."

"I didn't. Maybe I could have guessed it." I had never given it much thought. "I don't actually know a whole lot about you, Eric."

"Do you wish you could read my mind?"

That was an easy one. "No." I stroked the back of his hand. His skin felt soft, normal, like a person's. I could feel his bones and veins. "I'd rather you told me."

Eric dropped my hand. "We're done with the stairs."

Whether or not Eric actually meant that as a rejection, it felt like one. It also pissed me off. We may have been done with the stairs, but we weren't done logistically. I was still effectively blind. I held out my palm. "Show me Bill." Eric took my hand and yanked me in some direction, right or left, north or south, I had no idea. I could tell through the bond he was upset, but I didn't care. I hadn't done anything wrong. I said I had wanted to visit Bill. Eric knew what we were getting into.

When Eric dropped my hand, I figured we were near Bill. My eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, but I could only tell where the floor was in relation to everything else. I put my hands out in front of me, like a child learning to walk, and lowered myself into a sitting position.

"Hello Sookie." Bill's voice had become a rattle, like someone had squeezed everything out of him and filled the empty space with old bones. "Eric."

Eric didn't say anything. Maybe he nodded, since he and Bill could see each other perfectly well.

"Bill, how are you feeling?" I said.

Bill let out a hacking cough. Or maybe it was a laugh. "I've been better."

"How long have you been down here?"

"Two weeks. Since a day or two after you visited. Doctor Ludwig flushed the silver out, but I haven't been able to recover my strength."

"Bill, I'm so sorry."

Bill hesitated. "I will be starting a new treatment this week."

"What kind?"

"Experimental." That was a vague answer for Bill. It was more of an Eric kind of response. I took it to mean there was something about the treatment I wouldn't like.

"Experimental how?"

"Blood work, synthetic things, I don't really understand." Maybe he wasn't lying. Maybe being with Eric had made me paranoid. Either way, Bill sounded so bad, I didn't want to push it. "If the treatment takes, Doctor Ludwig says my prognosis is good."

"I'm glad to hear that, Bill."

"Thank you for coming. Hearing your voice is all I need."

Bill was laying it on thick, but it was working. I felt guilty for not coming sooner. "I'll come more often," I said. "If you ever need anything, you go ahead and call me, no matter what time. I'm only across the cemetery."

"Sookie, I don't want to be a burden."

"Bill, cut it out. After everything you've done for me, this is the least I can do in return."

"All right."

"I've prayed for you, and I'll pray again, this Sunday." I knew he would like that. I reached out to touch him, maybe squeeze his hand.

"Don't come closer." Bill's voice gained energy. "I haven't eaten today. Yet."

My heart started beating faster. Instantly, Eric knelt beside me. I felt safer and wanted to kick myself. Of course Eric was happy to play guard dog—especially against Bill. But he wouldn't hold my hand? "Back off," Eric said, to me or to Bill, I didn't know.

Either way, I wasn't going to take orders. If Bill couldn't handle True Blood before he retreated to the basement, he certainly needed real blood now. By rights, I should give him mine. He had been injured on my behalf. It was the least I could do. "If I let you feed on me, will you be able to stop when I ask?" I said to Bill.

"Sookie, back off." I didn't need the bond to tell me Eric was upset. But it wasn't his decision.

Bill was quiet. "I won't go against the wishes of my Sherriff," he said. Ok, so maybe it was Eric's decision, but Bill couldn't really have said anything else while he was dependent on Eric for care. Eric was going to forbid it. I just knew.

"What's it going to be?" I said. My head throbbed and I realized it was because Eric was angry. Was he trying to influence me? I wanted to smack him. I would have, if I had any idea where he was. "Stop it."

"Do what you want," Eric said. "If you want to feed him, feed him." I was flabbergasted he agreed. I didn't know what to make of it. What was he trying to prove to me?

Bill made that hacking sound again. This time, I was fairly certain it was a laugh. "When I hoped to taste you again, I didn't imagine it like this."

In my wildest daydreams, I hadn't imagined anything close to this either. I hated the "willing donor" system, but I hoped Eric had arranged for some fangbangers to be brought around to Bill. But he probably hadn't, unless the poor girls had been glamoured out of their minds. If word of Bill's condition got out, he would be at grave risk and unable to defend himself.

I moved my hand towards the area where Bill's voice had been coming from. "Take my hand, Bill, I can't see anything."

Something leathery latched on to my palm and I was glad I couldn't see what Bill looked like. His skin felt wrong and I imagined the crypt-keeper or an Egyptian mummy. When Bill's fangs pieced my wrist, I gasped. It really hurt. All my bites recently had been during sex with Eric—sexy bites. This didn't feel a thing like those. This was like going to the doctor. With Eric I'd been primed to kind-of enjoy them. It was almost like a kiss and Eric was so good—I couldn't think of another word—about not taking too much, making sure making sure I was healed. And beyond the comfort factor, I liked that my blood animated Eric. In a strange way, the fact that my blood helped him to get up and walk around each day felt as intimate as the sex.

Bill took a long draw on my wrist. I felt dizzy. I heard Eric's voice beside me. He hadn't moved. "Easy, Bill. She's doing you a favor."

I did mean it as a favor, but I hadn't expected Eric to understand or acknowledge that, especially after our fight. Eric was still angry, I could feel it across the bond, but he was allowing me to make my own choice. He was more than allowing me—he trusted me. I felt sudden affection towards him. Blood meant so much to vampires. For him, this might even be like watching me have sex with another man. He might be angry, he might not understand my choice, but he was still accepting it. Eric had passed a test I hadn't even known that I had set.

"Eric and I got married," I said. "About a month ago." Bill stopped drinking. I felt something warm and sticky slide down my arm and I realized it was my own blood.

Bill's fangs unhooked from my wrist. It stung as he pulled them out. "What does that mean?" His voice was hoarse.

On second thought, I probably should have waited until he stopped drinking to tell him. This wasn't exactly how I planned to broach the subject. But the beans had been spilled and there was no use crying over them. "It means what I said. We came to tell you in person."

"You married her?" He must have been addressing Eric.

I could feel Eric's smugness. "Months ago."

"One month, be quiet, Eric. And I'm talking to you, Bill." What was with the men in my life trying to control me or shut me up? "You can fight with me just as easily as you can fight with him. Don't switch to him because you don't like what I'm saying."

"You gave me your blood. I don't understand."

"I gave it to you because you needed it. You're sick."

Bill sounded even more tired than before. "It isn't that simple, Sookie. Your blood is special to me."

I was sick of arguing about my blood. "What do you want me to say, Bill? That I wanted to hurt you back? It's not true, I wanted to help you. It's not more complicated than that. You can take it or leave it." I held out my wrist. "I'm not tired yet, you can have a little more."

Bill didn't take my arm. "You married Eric," he said again, like he couldn't fit the words in his mouth.

"We're figuring things out," I amended, more for myself than Bill. "If you have a problem with it, you talk to me. Don't pick fights with Eric. I've made the choice myself."

As was usual with me, I said it before thinking it: _I've made the choice_. When I thought through, it became more of a realization than a fact. Niall's parting words to me had been something about "the vampire" loving me. I had asked which vampire he meant: Bill or Eric?

But really, who cared which one Niall meant? I didn't need Niall, or a man, or _anyone_ to tell me what to decide. I was 27, for god sake. I had to be a person and make my own choices, whether I was right, wrong, or in between. Eric was really trying to be with me on my terms. And for now, that was good enough. If things didn't work out with him—just as they hadn't worked out with Bill or Alcide or Quinn—I'd live with it and figure something out. Every day, I figured out my job, my errands, my friends, my bills. Every little thing about my life came down to choices and improvising, so why would love be any different? And if I could choose, I wasn't helpless: I had to wait for an answer. I could make a choice.

The idea of "_the_ answer," "_the_ man," was bloodless, lifeless—it was self-contained and impervious to change. Sort of like Eric. Or more like Eric's body than Eric himself. Eric couldn't age, but could he change? Could we grow together, even though our physicality would never be on the same track? By definition, vampires didn't change, they never grew, they just existed. Like a book that had been printed, a vampire, in theory, couldn't be more than what it already was.

But I didn't think Eric was like that. He would always look the same, but in the short time we'd known each other, I had seen seek out situations that forced him to adapt. Why would he hang around me, for instance, if he didn't on some level want to change? And I felt the same way. Eric was sometimes a chore, always a struggle, but when I was with him, I never ended up where I thought I would be going. I really appreciated that. I maybe even loved it.

"I've chosen and I'll live with it," I said out loud. It was my choice, and I could revise if I wanted. I felt totally empowered. I felt really horny. I wanted to get out of that basement and have sex with Eric in the back of the corvette. In Bill's bed. I didn't care. I had to feel him close to me. Bill shouted something about choices that kill, but I tuned him out. It wasn't as if he always listened to me, anyway.

"Bill, I'm sorry I upset you. I'll be back later. I'll call first." I was going to say more. I knew I should say more, but it didn't feel important. I felt high almost. I felt this high keening thrill, and I knew Eric could feel too through the bond. My heart was jumping so fast in my chest I felt like I would choke on it. I wrapped my fingers through Eric's, which were suddenly next to mine. "Eric," I said, just to say his name. I wanted to feel the letters in my mouth. "How do we get upstairs?"

"We'll talk later, Bill," Eric said as he picked me up—why didn't we think of this before? I wrapped my arms around his neck. I put my head where his heart would be—where I guess it still was. I didn't hear anything, but I could feel his muscle, the bone of his ribcage, the movement of his shoulder as he hoisted me up and opened the door to the hall. He felt alive.

The hall light stung my eyes. I squinted them shut and light danced behind my lids.

"Upstairs," I said.

"We are upstairs. Open your eyes."

"No, upstairs, upstairs. Take me to Bill's room."

"Not yet," Eric said. He sat me down on the hall table next to the newspapers and peeled my arms off from around his neck. He picked up the wrist Bill had bitten. It was covered in blood and the puncture marks were still dribbling.

Oh no. "Eric," I said. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, stop thinking it. This is the definition of sloppy seconds."

He looked at me. "Do you think of me as second?"

"No."

Eric grinned and licked my wrist, sort of like a cat. It was deeply weird, but he very obviously couldn't help himself. I felt a strange affection for him as he worked. He was being very careful, he didn't bite me again and when he dropped my arm, the puncture marks had gotten smaller, and stopped bleeding. "Thank you," he said and kissed me. It was light, chaste, close-mouthed. My body tingled.

"What is wrong with me?" I said. "You licked old blood off my wrist and I still want you."

He laughed and undid the top button on my dress. "Get used to it." He cupped my breasts and moved in for button number two. His hands were so big. "Don't give Bill your blood again," he breathed against my throat.

A shiver ran through me. "Unless it's life threatening."

"Unless it's life threatening," he conceded.

"Upstairs?" I asked. Eric didn't need to be told twice. He scooped me up and I wrapped my arms around his neck again.

"Scarlett and Rhett," I said, as he carried me up the stairs. Eric didn't respond, so I knew he still didn't get the reference, but I loved that about him. I couldn't imagine Eric wasting three hours on a movie. He moved too fast for that. Besides, I didn't want to be Scarlett and Rhett. I didn't want to be anything more than what we were.

I couldn't wait for the bedroom so I kissed him right there on the landing. I was in such a hurry, I kind of crawled up his front and he almost dropped me. He growled and spun me around so I was up against the wall. I wanted to feel every inch of him. I wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him closer to me.

"Eric." I felt crazy. I clawed at his shirt and he pulled it over his head. He was so beautiful, I had to touch him. I decided that for the sake of straight women and gay men, all American public schools should institute a Viking exercise unit. They really didn't make muscles like this anymore. I kissed down his chest and folded my arms around him. I wanted to crawl inside of him. He started to walk with me, on his front like a marsupial, towards the bed.

Bill's bed had been my idea, but "We can't. It's too mean." Something tile caught the corner of my eye. "The bathroom." We were good at bathrooms.

Eric and I tumbled through the door. He dropped me and I fell out of my high heels. He tried to pick me up again but I liked the idea of being caught so I smacked him and ran out of the way, sort of scrambling over the toilet.

Eric caught my ankle. I laughed and tried to pull it out of his hands, but he kissed it instead. It tickled and felt more stupid than anything except he was looking right at me as he did it. I just looked back at him. He smiled against my foot, said "Sookie," and then, grabbed higher up on my leg and dragged me towards him. He kissed my calf. He ran his tongue around my knee and slowly moved to my inner thigh making a chain of kisses. Something twisted and unwound inside me and I leaned back against the tile and sighed.

I heard the click of Eric's fangs.

"Wait," I said.

As I scrambled up, all my blood rushed to my head and I felt dizzy. I took the few steps across the room to Bill's shower. I pulled back the plastic curtain and stepped inside. I beckoned to Eric. "Full circle. You remember?"

Eric stood up. "Yes."

Eric was naked from the waist up and fully clothed from the belt down. He didn't take his eyes off me as walked forward, pushing off his shoes, peeling off his socks, almost tripping over himself. When he got to the edge of the shower, I grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him inside. I kissed the space right below his collarbone, just where my mouth hit, and started to fumble with his buckle.

"Wait," he said to me this time, and reached behind me to turn on the spray.

The water got in my eyes and soaked my dress straight through. I could see his erection outlined through the wet fabric of his pants.

"I wish I could read your mind," he said, "every day."

I pushed his hair out of the way so I could see his face through the water. "Please ask me," I said. "I want you to know."


	6. Wednesday Morning

I stood in the middle of Bill's bathroom, dripping. Bill's shower curtain hung by a single roller. The bathmat was soaked straight through. There was a puddle creeping across the tile. Eric's pants were balled up on the floor and, somehow, my dress had ended up splayed on top of the toilet. But the physical damage was the least of it.

"What have I done?" I said, pulling Bill's towel closer around me. Helpful as always, Eric came up behind me and kissed the back of my neck. He was ready to go again. I pushed him off. "Bill heard everything."

"I doubt it," Eric said. "His senses haven't been as sharp since the injury."

Oh my god, Bill's illness. "That makes it even worse." I sat down on the edge of the tub and dropped my head in my hands.

Eric didn't get it. "Why do you waste time regretting what's been done?"

"Because I shouldn't have done it." I said. "I know how he feels about me. I can't believe I was this selfish. How long would it have taken us to get across the cemetery? Five minutes? Ten?" I sighed. "I'm not mad at you, but I should have known better."

"What do you mean by that?" Eric looked offended.

I didn't want to start a fight, especially since we had to stay here for at least another half hour to clean the bathroom. "I meant that I'm not blaming you. I don't think you pressured me into this. I should have known to stop it before we, well, you know."

Eric's eyes narrowed. This was not looking good. "Do you know what I think?" he said.

"No." Obviously I didn't. "Are you going to tell me?"

He sat down on the tub next me. I passed him the towel and he started to dry his hair. "I think Bill owes you this. He's done so much to you in the past, the fact you have such concern for him is remarkable."

That was bullshit. "Eric, he's sick in his basement because he saved my life. And even if that wasn't the case, I don't want to live my life on some kind of tit-for-tat scale." I stopped myself before I added _like you_, because bringing that up couldn't lead anywhere good. "There is a way I want to treat people and there is a way I don't want to treat people. This was unforgivable." I sighed, again. "I am going to have to talk to Bill."

"You will do what you want," Eric said. "But I'm not sorry about this. I'm only sorry that you are sorry."

"I'm glad that I'm sorry." The day I lost that, I might as well stop living. How could I have been so selfish? On some level, maybe I did want to hurt Bill. It was the only reason that made sense, but as a rationalization, it made me feel worse. I had never thought of myself as a person that petty.

"When will you talk to him?"

"Tomorrow." I looked at my ruined dress. My ruined _church_ dress. Lying on the toilet. Sometimes you have to guess things and sometimes the good Lord just sends you a sign. "I can't face him without clothes."

Eric passed me the towel. "Do it now. I want him out of our life."

"Out of our life is not an option," I said, but I took the towel.

----

I honestly didn't know if I should talk to Bill now or later. I didn't want to make the situation worse for him, but I owed him an apology. Would it be worse if I waited? Or would waiting be even more callous? Should I go now? Or would he need time to cool down? What if he just didn't want see my face? In the roles had been reversed and it had been Bill screwing Selah on Gran's bed, for instance, I would have kicked him out without thinking. Not that Bill would ever do that. And I obviously would. I just had. Why?

I couldn't say. I couldn't put it into words even for myself, other than at the time it had felt so incredibly good, I'd gone crazy. But that wasn't nearly enough: I didn't want an excuse, but I needed an explanation. For Bill and for myself. Not so much for Eric. He almost seemed proud of the incident. I didn't understand it. And while his attitude wasn't entirely surprising, it made me feel a little queasy.

I stalled on the Bill front by forcing Eric to help me clean up the bathroom. Afterwards, I put our clothes in the washer and then decided to find a robe. If I was going even think about talking to Bill, I couldn't do it in a towel.

I found Eric upstairs in Bill's room, going through drawers. He had discarded three pairs of pants on the floor. "Eric, you can't take Bill's clothes." That would be insult to injury.

"I know, they are too small." He said, missing the point completely. Or maybe choosing to miss the point. Eric pulled out a pair of plaid pajama pants with a drawstring waist. "Maybe these?"

"That's stealing." He ignored me and stepped into the pajamas. "After what we just did to Bill, I can't believe you would take his clothes." The pants were comically short, hitting him above the ankle like little girl's pedal pushers.

"Bill doesn't need these now," Eric said, "and I will return them. I can't go to Fangtasia naked." He tossed me his car keys. "Will you meet me there?"

"You're going on ahead?"

"Unless you would like to come with me. You would need to find clothes. You could wear something of Pam's when we arrive."

No thanks. I would end up looking like a dominatrix or a soccer mom, depending on whether Pam had her work or play clothes on hand. And I was feeling more and more despicable the longer I waited to face Bill. "I'll stay and talk to him. Do I smell like you?"

Eric put his arms around me. "You always smell like me now." He kissed me on the forehead. "You are so good, to worry about this."

"I'm not," I said, and I wasn't, that was for sure. "But thank you for saying it."

----

After Eric left, I put on a bathrobe I found in Bill's closet and folded all the pants Eric threw on the floor. I poked around for a flashlight and uncovered a cigarette lighter and a collection of red and white heart-shaped candles in the top drawer of Bill's nightstand. Since Bill had never used them with me, I assumed they were a leftover from Selah. I grabbed the lighter and a tall white candle before heading downstairs to the basement.

I hesitated outside the basement door, hoping that Bill couldn't hear my breathing, my heart beating, or any sign that would let him know I was there. I didn't know if I believed Eric's line about Bill's numbed senses and I wanted to be sure this was a good idea before I invaded his privacy. I didn't want to go down there just to make myself feel better. For the first time tonight, I had to think about someone other than myself. God. I also had to stop whining. I would never know until I did it.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. "Bill, it's Sookie. May I come down? I want to talk."

It was a good ten seconds before I heard anything.

"Come down."

I lit Selah's sexy candle and obliged. The stairs didn't seem quite so long or intimidating with a light in my hand. No wonder Eric had been so exasperated—it had taken us about five minutes to descend what ended up being twenty steps. When I reached the bottom, I held out the candle to try to find Bill. "Over here," he said.

Bill lay in the far right corner of the basement on a pile of blankets and pillows. There wasn't a coffin, but it was so dark, he must not have needed one. Bill had a few books piled next to him and some empty glasses, maybe for the blood Pam and Indira brought him. As I got closer, all I concentrate on was how emaciated he was. Bill actually looked like a corpse. His cheeks were hollow, stretched tight against the bone and his eyes looked glassy and unfocused.

Bill noticed me staring. "I drink blood, but my body can't process it. Doctor Ludwig says it is something close to starvation."

I sat down next to him. "Bill, I'm sorry."

"Me too," he said. Then he looked me up and down. "You're wearing my bathrobe."

I prayed that honesty was best and jumped in headfirst. "I had sex with Eric upstairs."

Bill's eyes narrowed. "I assumed, when you rushed out of here without a goodbye. Had he given you his blood?" He sniffed. "You reek of him."

I had known the smell would come up, but this time I deserved it. "There was no blood, it was me. Bill, I'm sorry. It's inexcusable."

"I've been clear about how I feel about you, Sookie," Bill said. " I thought you understood and could respect it. In all the time I was with Selah, I never once did anything like this. I tried to be respectful to you."

"I know." I swallowed a sob. I couldn't cry. Bill wasn't saying anything that wasn't true.

"Why would you do this?" Bill continued. "This isn't who I know you to be."

I felt helpless. This wasn't who I hoped to be either. "I got caught in the moment. I thought I'd had some kind of epiphany." I wasn't lying, but it even sounded pathetic to my ears.

Bill didn't hide his scorn. "An epiphany? About what?"

I hated to say it. "Eric."

"So you cement this epiphany with sex? What has he done to you?"

I had to nip the blame game in the bud. "Eric didn't do anything. This was my mistake. I regret it, Bill. The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

"Really." He didn't believe me.

I didn't know where to start. I wanted to be straight and not manipulative. It wasn't fair to bring up what he had done to me. I didn't want to turn attention away from what I did, even though it was possible on some deep level my actions tonight weren't unconnected from that old hurt and I had wanted to get back at him in some way. But I had forgiven him. I didn't want to be that vindictive and more than that, I didn't feel malicious towards Bill. No, this was about me. Not Eric and not Bill. I was the one who pushed the sex. I was the one who initiated it.

"We have a lot of history, Bill." I said. "And I don't understand how I feel about a lot of it. But in the past few months, I feel like we reached a new kind of understanding, which was precious to me. And tonight, I violated that trust. Please forgive me. Or know that I didn't mean you harm."

Bill stared at me. "When I hurt you, in maybe the most profound way one person can betray another, you gave me a second chance. I will always be grateful for that. Your trust makes me feel worthwhile when I feel like I can't control myself." He paused. "I forgive you, Sookie, but I don't understand what would make you be so callow, and I suspect that it is his influence." I opened my mouth, but Bill cut me off. "I don't want to fight with you. It's admirable that you are taking responsibility. But Eric has no thought for anyone beyond himself. I don't want to see you narrow yourself to that view of the world."

"I don't deserve your admiration, Bill," I said. "I am nowhere near as—kind—as you make me out to be. I don't wholly disagree with what you said about Eric, but the mistake tonight was mine. Eric frightens me so much and so often, even more so because we're connected. I don't think I would be able to cut him out of my life if I wanted to. " I took a deep breath. "Earlier tonight, here in the basement, I had this moment of what felt like absolute clarity, where it felt good to have Eric as part of my life. I acted on it, selfishly. To make myself feel better about being with him—safer being with him—I don't know. Maybe I tried to pretend I have a relationship with Eric that is deeper than what we have hammered out. For the first time, it felt unambiguously right and I wanted to make the feeling last. That's why I did it. Maybe I was lying to myself but, regardless, I'm sorry I hurt you in the process."

That was it. I knew that was it. I felt better and worse figuring it out.

When Eric told me he wanted to read my mind I had almost said that I loved him. He had seemed so raw and genuine. But in retrospect, did he want to read my mind so he could know me or so he could control me? Everything was so double-edged with him, it seemed like no matter which way I turned there was the possibility I could get hurt. I didn't love him: I didn't know him enough to love him. But I wanted to. I wanted to love him so badly it ached, not the least because it would be nice to have something certain in my life.

I'd let that need control me and forgotten the people I could count on. Like Bill. I didn't feel much better about my actions after coming clean with him, but I was at leas felt grateful that he would listen to me blather. "If you are so conflicted, why did you marry him?" Bill said.

My mouth dried up. That was the last thing I wanted to revisit now. But I could trust Bill, and I owed him the truth. "Eric tricked me," I said and it was like someone lit a match behind Bill's haggard face, his energy jumped so much and he gave me a big shit-eating grin. "Look, you can't tell anyone, but I didn't know I was marrying him until it was done. Felipe de Castro summoned me to Las Vegas and Eric married me in front of Victor Manning so I could stay in Louisiana. He had me give him a knife. It was the same one Eric used to marry Russell Edington in Rhodes."

"So Eric didn't give you a chance to say no."

I nodded. "Had I known what was going on, I probably would have turned him down. Well maybe. Since the alternative was Felipe, I might have agreed. I don't know. I wouldn't have been happy about it either way."

"So you aren't happy?"

"I wasn't. " I paused. Everything had been happening so quickly, I hadn't had time to think about the marriage by itself per say. "I know I would rather be married to Eric that Felipe's slave. I feel uncomfortable enough being with Eric, let alone being married to him. But he told me about his human life. He listens to me more. He let you have my blood. Sometimes, I feel like he really could care. I could love him." I didn't really know if I should be talking to Bill about this. I almost certainly shouldn't be.

Bill looked grim. "When a vampire has survived as long as Eric has, he has to seal off certain parts of his humanity. I did it—I see myself doing it—and I'm a child compared to him. Part of that is our politics. It's a snake pit, and Eric's good at navigating it. But part of it is the agony of watching every person you've known, or could know, age and die. It drives us to associate just among ourselves and we forget certain things about living, mostly, how to treat each other when you only have a limited about of time. You made me remember some of that, Sookie. That's why I think you are such an angel."

"I'm not an angel, I am a person," I said.

"I know," Bill said. "What I'm trying to say is maybe Eric is capable of changing, I don't know. But he is working against a thousand years of survival skills. He may care for you, but he is also looking forward to the next thousand." Bill paused. "I _am_ jealous, Sookie. So remember when you listen to what I am telling you. You deserve someone who can love you with everything he has. And I am not saying that person is me, necessarily. But I worry if Eric is capable of caring about you more than he cares about himself."

Bill had articulated one of my central fears about Eric. Hell, I had given Quinn the boot for less. "I worry too. But I want to give him a chance."

We were quiet for a second and Bill cleared his throat. "Then you should," he said, almost swallowing his words.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What?"

"I don't think Eric is a bad man," Bill said gruffly. "He has his shortcomings. He is not good enough for you. But you should make yourself happy."

"Thanks." I thought. It sort of sounded like Bill was leaving me to my fate. But considering why I came down here, and considering the history the three of us shared, it was an unbelievable concession. I took Bill's hand. His skin felt as leathery as it had earlier and deathly cold. I rubbed our palms together. "You're like ice," I said.

"That's the least of my problems." Bill gave me a weak smile. "I don't feel temperature."

We were quiet again, and then I remembered the second half of the marriage story. It had only happened this afternoon, but it already felt a world away. "We came to tell you tonight because I thought you might already know." I said. "Someone leaked our marriage to the media—we think Victor—and the Governor spoke out against it. It is on the front page of the _Bon Temps Gazette_. I'm afraid they are going scapegoat us."

Bill smiled. "Now that is a problem Eric can handle. You and him, I don't know. But the politics he could do asleep."

I laughed. "A thousand years of survival skills?"

"A thousand years of something. And a good thirty in Louisiana. Eric has been active here a lot longer than most human politicians. They don't stand a chance. He's been Sherriff of Area 5 since the early 1980s."

The date struck me. A thousand years sounded so abstract, but the early 1980s were within my frame of reference. "I was born in 1982." Eric had probably been Sherriff my entire life.

"And I was born in 1840," Bill said. "In this house, less than a mile from where you'd be born more than a hundred years later. It's a strange world that brings us together."

"I was born in the hospital in Monroe," I said. "But I take your point."

Bill laughed. "I've missed you, Sookie."

I squeezed his hand. It was cool in mine. "Where were you in 1982?" I asked.

"In New Orleans," Bill said. "I worked as an archivist for the Queen. I spent my nights at Tulane University Library. I glamoured the guard to let me in, because I didn't have proper identification."

I shook my head. "You're a real creature of the night, Bill."

"The centennial of Queen's reign was 1985, so she asked me to create an official record—not only of what she did, but of stray vampires passing through her territory. We may have been officially invisible, but you can find traces of us if you know where to look: unsolved murders, unexplained disappearances, and the like. The idea for the database came out of that early research." Bill paused. The book talk was obviously getting him all jazzed up. "That was around the time I first met Eric."

"Was he working for the Queen?"

"A little," Bill said. "Every vampire in Louisiana works for the Queen in one way or another. I met him because he was taking English language classes at Loyola next door. Maybe a few other schools too. We all moved around a fair bit back then."

I was fascinated and a little disappointed I wasn't hearing this from Eric. "What did you think of him?"

Bill shrugged. "I liked him. He has a good sense of humor, especially for a vampire. But back then, his English was very bad, even with Pam around. Sophie-Anne made him Sheriff after he mastered the language a little better and I didn't see him until I came back to Bon Temps."

Out of nowhere, Bill's head shot up.

"What is it?" I asked.

He shushed me and grabbed my arm. I didn't hear anything until suddenly, something small and blonde appeared into our circle of candlelight. Pam.

"I am glad you were talking about my master," she said. "That is the only thing excusing the hand-holding." Pam was in soccer mom attire tonight, sporting a cable-knit sweater, khakis, and a monogrammed canvas bag. That meant the dominatrix outfit was open. Damn.

"Were you spying on us?" I asked. "Did Eric send you?"

Pam just looked at me. She didn't say anything. I knew now where she'd learned the tactic. "He didn't send me to spy on you," she said, taking a blood bag out of her monogrammed bag. She tossed it in the direction of Bill's head. Pam needed to work on her bedside manner. "Tonight is AB negative. Very rare. You should feel lucky." She looked from me to Bill and smiled. "Maybe Eric feels guilty about something?"

I handed Bill a glass to avoid looking at Pam. Bill ripped the edge of the bag and started to pour it in. I bet Pam could tell she'd touched a nerve because she looked as pleased as punch. "Sookie, you look like a wet dog."

"Thanks, Pam," I said.

"I am to take you to Fangtasia, if you are ready," she said.

I looked at Bill, but he avoided my gaze. Great. "You know, I think I'll stay here tonight." Pam raised an eyebrow. "You go on," I said. "I know you're busy. I'll call Eric and tell him."

Pam gave me a big smile. "You will age him another thousand years." Then, she was out of the basement and gone before I'd even realized she had moved.

Bill put down his blood. "You don't have to stay."

"Do you want me to go?"

"Not yet. But I will be getting tired soon."

"Me too. If I don't get some rest soon, I'll become nocturnal, which would just be pathetic." I took my phone out of the bathrobe pocket—yes I'm that addicted—after years of not having one, I've become just as bad as everyone else. "Do you mind if I call him?"

"Do what you need to do."

I didn't feel like chatting with whatever fangbanger was manning the phones, so I called Eric's cell. It rang twice before he picked up.

"Lover. "

"Eric," I said. "Hello."

Phone conversations with Eric were so stilted. I wondered why, since technically, he should have had more telephone practice than the rest of us. He was older than Alexander Graham Bell.

"Did you finish up? How is he?"

"Bill and I are okay," I said. "But I am going to stay in Bon Temps tonight."

He was quiet. "With Bill?"

"Maybe," I said. "Probably at my house. I don't want to leave him yet and when I'm ready, I'll be too tired to come to Shreveport."

I was ready for Eric to insist I come, but he was silent for another second or two, and then asked, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," I said. "At Fangtasia?"

"I'll be waiting for you." Eric hung up.

When I turned around, Bill was staring at me. I assumed he overheard my conversation, not that I really minded. "What is it?" I said.

Bill shook his head. "Nothing." He gave me a stiff smile. "It doesn't matter now."

I wasn't sure what he meant and I almost didn't want to know. I put down the phone and just looked at him. "I'm sorry, Bill."

He nodded and the smile slid off his face. "I'm sorry too."

----

_Next up: Fangtasia, for real, this time. Thank you all for reading and reviewing! _

_All characters belong to Charlaine Harris and HBO._


	7. Wednesday Afternoon

I got home at two, fell into bed and slept until noon. It was amazing and there is nothing more to say about it. When I woke up, I took a shower so hot it steamed up my bathroom.

I wasn't scheduled to work, so I had the day to myself until nightfall when Eric woke up. After poking through my closet, I decided to swing by Tara's and pick up something to wear tonight when I went to Fangtasia. I didn't really need a new outfit, and lord knows I should save my money, but I wanted to get out of the house.

I pulled on some shorts and a button-down and checked my phone on the way out the door. Sam left a message telling me to take time off until things got sorted out with the Governor. Since I wasn't expecting any more house calls from Baton Rouge, I figured that meant the end of the week. It was only a matter of time the next scandal popped up and everyone in Bon Temps forgot Sookie Stackhouse was married to a vampire. I had missed a call from Jason as well. Maybe he was taking this reconnecting thing seriously after all. I decided to call him back later in the day. Eric texted me twice around 5 am, probably just as he was getting to sleep. The first read:

_i miss you –E_

I was touched, until I opened the second text, which was the kind of picture Brad Pitt spliced into movies in_ Fight Club._ I snapped the phone shut. Then I reopened it. My phone had automatically saved Eric's picture. Fudge. My finger hovered over the delete button, but then—for some reason—I pressed save. It wasn't like I was setting the picture as my background. Who cared? No one was watching me. And he looked pretty damn good. I fired off a quick text to Eric:

_Is that a promise?_

Blushing at myself, I jumped in the corvette. I felt a better about being flirty over text knowing he wouldn't read it for another few hours.

When the whole town is gossiping about you being married to a vampire, driving around in a red corvette with the license plate BLDSKR isn't the best thing to kill the rumors. When I stopped at a yellow light across from Tara's, Portia Bellefluer Vick leaned out of her drivers' side widow to gawk. Her mouth was catching flies.

"Hi Portia," I waved at her.

She didn't pretend that she hadn't been looking, which was probably a bad sign. "Nice car, Sookie," she called across the road.

"Thanks."

"Where'd you get it?" This was bad. She was asking me directly, which is something well-bred Southern women never do. That's doubly true if she had been a debutante (Portia had) and was a current member of the Junior League (Portia was).

I tried an Eric-type evasion. "Shreveport."

"Really? Where at?" I hated her tone of voice, like she couldn't believe I owned the car myself. My people had been the help and Portia's required the helping and she'd never forget that, no matter what kind of person I was or what I ended up doing for a living.

A green light spared me from lying or telling her it was on loan from my vampire husband. I honked, waved, and high tailed it over to Tara's.

When I walked in to the shop, Tara locked the door behind me and flipped the sign on the window from OPEN to CLOSED.

"Tara, what are you doing?"

"I didn't think you'd be out of the house," she said. "Let alone coming over here. Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right," I said. "Is this about the wedding? I told you I'd gotten married, Tara."

"Yeah, you told me. You didn't tell Bon Temps. Sookie, I hate to be a gossip, but people are just talking and talking. Most think you've been, I don't know..."

I heard it in her head. "Glamoured?"

"Are you sure this is what you want to be doing? Your vampire hasn't forced you or anything?"

"He won't hurt me." After her experience with Mickey, I figured Tara was trying to watch out for me.

Tara gave me a big hug. "I'm just worried about you, Sook."

"You worry about yourself. And that baby," I put my hand on her belly. She was just about six months along. "Have you and J.B. picked out a name yet?"

"It's too stressful," Tara said. "We've got a big long list, but I don't think I can make the decision until we meet him or her."

I nodded. Tara was serious about her impending motherhood. She had powered through all the parenting books Bon Temps library had to offer and was even taking one of those pre-birth yoga classes at J.B.'s gym. I thought, in a way, she wanted to make up for her own rough childhood by being the best Mom in Bon Temps. "It's already one lucky baby," I said.

Tara blushed and shook her head. "You hush. I know you didn't come in here to chat. What can I do you for?"

"What do you have by way of party dresses?"

"I got just the thing. I'd have grabbed it myself if I wasn't…" Tara nodded to her belly.

The dress was perfect. It was red and sleek and hugged me in all the right places without seeming cheap. It was also on sale. I paid for it right then and there, gave Tara a kiss on the cheek, and concluded my self-prescribed retail therapy before I broke the bank. When I walked out into the lot, I realized my new dress matched the corvette. Eric would love that. Smiling to myself, I tucked the garment bag in the backseat.

"Sookie? Sookie Stackhouse?" I turned around. Michele Schubert, my old vacation bible school classmate and Jason's new girlfriend, stood on the curb, holding a brown bag from the Grabbit Kwik. "How you doing, girl?"

"Great," I said. "What's up, Michele? How's Jason?"

She beamed. "He's fine. Listen, Sookie, I was just thinking about you. Would you and that man of yours like to come over for dinner sometime? I asked Jason to ask you, but you know how he gets." She gave me an indulgent smile.

I was totally surprised and totally touched. Jason had invited us before the news story hit and I just assumed the invitation had been rescinded. "Gosh, Michele. We'd love to."

"Great. How's Friday for you?"

"I'll have to double check with Eric, but that should be fine."

"Now about Eric," she said, "He doesn't eat anything? I've never had a vamper over, so I want to be sure I don't embarrass the company."

"He doesn't eat, but you cook whatever you were planning on and he'll behave himself."

Michele laughed. "Easy company." That was one way to put it.

"Is there anything I can bring?"

"Don't you worry about it." Michele started off towards her car. "See you Friday. Bye now."

"Sounds great." I waved goodbye. Michele's reaction was such a 180 from everyone else I'd encountered, I felt a little bit like I'd been hit for by a truck. A good truck. Probably.

I plopped down in the driver's seat and laughed out loud. I'd committed Eric to Friday night dinner with my brother. I didn't have the slightest idea how he'd react. The last time Eric had been to a family dinner (as opposed to having a family for dinner) was probably over a thousand years ago.

There was no time like the present.

----

When I got home, I greased myself up like a Christmas ham and lay out in the backyard for some off-season sunbathing. I must have drifted off, because the buzz of my phone woke me up just before five. The sun was tucking itself in behind the horizon.

It was Eric.

_yes_

My phone buzzed again.

_you owe me_

_For what? _I wrote back.

I folded my chair and was halfway up to the house when he replied.

_?? last night??? _

Another text.

_you forgot? now you owe double _

Then my phone rang. I picked it up. "I am here."

"No, you are not," he said. "That is the problem. I am thinking, lover, how nice it would be to have you here with me in this big bed, in my big empty house." He lingered on the word 'big' and I was pretty sure it was not his 'big house' he wanted me to be thinking about. He was so bad.

I smiled. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"You stayed with Bill last night. I would like you to stay with me. Will you?"

I wanted to see Eric. I missed him. Maybe it was that simple. And he had asked me, instead of commanding. "Tonight?" My heart started thumping.

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay, you will stay?"

"Yes."

"Good." Eric hung up.

I was so excited I was tingling. I could feel the bond humming away somewhere at the back of my head. Eric was happy too.

Maybe this would actually work out. Once we negotiated the sleepover, I could start on his phone etiquette. "I am here" might work for your run-of-the-mill vampire mobster, but I wouldn't let him answer the phone that way if Michele started calling.

----

I sped through a shower, slid into my new red dress, stuffed a purse with the essentials (a sundress, toothbrush, flip flops, and a change of underwear) and was out the door and into the corvette. On the drive to Shreveport, I rolled down the windows and sang along to my Shania Twain CD. The speed limit was 70, but I was edging up on 85.

Eric had a smart head for business, so Fangtasia was just off I-20, situated to snap up all the all truckers, tourists, and bored locals travelling along the Jackson-Dallas corridor. I turned off the interstate and sped past an Econo Lodge and requisite off-ramp fast food joints and gas stations. I could just see Fangtasia's neon sign, blinking red. But when I got closer, I noticed a local news truck parked in front of it.

I switched my turn signal from right to left and pulled into the Circle K gas station across the street from the bar. I parked at the pump and filled up the corvette to give myself a cover while I sussed out the situation. A woman in a pantsuit with big hair was stood in front of a camera crew under the neon Fangtasia logo. She was gabbing into a microphone. I checked my phone. It was 6:18, still early enough for a live report on the local news.

I texted Eric. _News truck outside bar?_

_come around back_, he responded.

I didn't know what to do with the corvette. I felt irresponsible leaving a car like that parked at a gas station, but I didn't have any other options. I pulled my cranberry coat over my dress, slipped out of my heels and into the flip-flops, figuring they would attract less attention. I crossed the street, kept my head down, and walked the long way around the building to the employee's entrance. The news crew didn't notice me.

Eric was waiting by the back door.

"Did you see the news crew?" I asked. "Did they call you ahead of time?"

"No, but Pam has her eye on them."

"Are you watching the report?"

"No."

"Don't you want to know what they're saying about us?"

"I don't care. In a week no one will remember."

"I hope so."

"I have lived a thousand years. May I share my wisdom? Many things that seem important do not turn out to be." He held the door open and I stepped inside. "That is a very nice coat, lover. You have very nice taste. May I take it?" I rolled my eyes and handed it to him. His smile grew. "The dress is even nicer."

"Thank you. I bought it today."

"Any occasion in mind?"

I shrugged. "You're always an occasion, Eric. I'm glad you think it's nice."

"It is nice because you are in it." Eric walked me backwards. My back hit the wall and he leaned over me. He was so close I could have bitten his neck if I wanted to. I sort of did. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too." I kissed him. I had to stand on my tip-toes because of the flip flops. His lips were cool, as always. Eric growled and ran his hands in my hair, feathering kisses along the side of my mouth. I sighed and leaned into him. I missed him. In some ways, I missed him even now, bond humming in the back of my head, hands running up his arms. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Don't make me talk about it. Are you finished with Bill?"

"We're okay for now."

He put his arms around me. "I want you to myself tonight."

I put my head on his chest and breathed deeply. "You got it, buddy."

"Unfortunately, I don't." Eric reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small black velvet box-- the kind of box you would keep a ring in. He flipped it open. A honker of a diamond sat inside. "Sookie, wear this."

I gaped at him. Things might be all right and I thought we'd been having a moment, but we weren't that hunky dory. "It isn't for me," he corrected. "Felipe is sitting outside in the bar. And Victor."

Eric had me convinced at Felipe. "So I'm your wife?" I put on the ring. I could move quick when I was cornered.

"You're my wife tonight."

I stared at the diamond. It looked so big, more like rock candy than a real diamond, but maybe that was because I wasn't used to fancy jewelry. "Where did you get it?"

"It's Pam's. From her human life. " He held up his hand. He'd been wearing a plain wedding band the whole time. I hadn't noticed. "This is Bruce's."

"Bruce your accountant?" Eric nodded. "Did you glamour him?" What kind of man would take off his wedding band and lend it to a vampire? Imagine trying to explain that to your wife.

"I paid him." Eric looked offended.

I stared at Pam's ring. I couldn't help it, it glinted at me. "Eric, you know this isn't real. When I wear your ring, if we decide that, it will be because I want to."

"I asked you to wear the ring so you don't get stolen to Las Vegas. I don't need you to wear anything to prove you are mine. "

"I am my own person."

"That may be, but you are my woman." His fangs were out. "And it is in your best interest to appear devoted to me."

"Well, remember it's an appearance."

Eric snarled. "When we go into the bar, every vampire will see the ring and think I humor you too much. They think you make me weak."

"Do I?"

"Yes." Eric said. "You make me crazy."

"Likewise. But Eric—"

"But what? I have lived a thousand years and I have never heard 'but' so many times."

"It's good for you," I said. "And I'm trying to be serious."

"If you want to have a conversation, I will remind you that Felipe is waiting."

"He was waiting while you made out with me up against that wall and he can wait while I say what I want to. You just don't want to talk."

"Can you blame me?"

"Give me a minute. " I said. "I know you plan things out like, I don't know, a smart robot. But do you actually have a plan? I don't want to rush into something."

"What about this is rushed?"

"Don't make fun of me." I said. "If something happens to you, I'm toast. You're the only thing standing between me and Felipe."

He raised his eyebrows. "It is nice to be valued."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop it, Eric. You know I don't want you to get hurt."

"How considerate."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't."

He was going to make me say it. "I care about you." Eric's mouth sort of twitched upwards, almost into a smile. "I missed you today. I miss you all the time, even though you're a passenger the back of my head because of the damn bond. I even saved your dirty text, god knows why." Eric smiled. I scowled. "Don't think that means I'll start letting you get away with that kind of crud," I said. "It's only a matter of time until Jason or Sam looks at my phone."

"You liked my text message?" Eric said. Of course that was what he would take away from my confession.

I wouldn't lie. "Yes."

"Good."

"So do you have a plan?"

Eric shrugged. "What is your idiom about the ear?"

"Play it by ear?"

He smiled and slung his arm around my shoulders. I could hear the faint thumping of KDED on the far side of the door leading to the bar.

"Really?" I said. "That's it?"

"Relax, lover," Eric said. "We have each other." Eric traced his fingers down my spine. I shivered.

"Eric, do you remember my idiom about the hand?"

"The high hand?" He smiled. "Are you suggesting that I am being high-handed?"

"Yes," I said, then thought about it. "Well, sort of. I would have appreciated advance notice, but it's not like we can avoid Felipe."

"That's right," he said, "so stop whining. You are good at improvising. I have noticed this about you." Eric opened the door to Fangtasia. "After Midnight" drifted in on a wave of cigarette smoke. "Ready?"

My real answer was no, but the situation was sort of beyond choice, so I nodded and we stepped through. Eric's hand was on the small of my back.

----

_A/N: All Charlaine Harris's and HBO's. Thanks for reading!_


	8. Wednesday Evening

_A/N: Belongs to Charliane Harris and HBO. Thanks for reading!_

----

"Hello, Sookie." Felipe de Castro had a very big smile and very nice teeth, not counting the fangs. Which were not out currently, thank God. Fangs meant either horny or angry and I needed to avoid both.

Felipe and Victor sat in Eric's usual booth like ducks in a row, worming their way through two True Bloods. Eric's hand was still on my back. It gave me a little tingle and made me feel safer. "Mr. de Castro, sir," I gave him an awkward dip that some might confuse with a curtsy. Hopefully it was enough to appease his majesty. We Americans don't have much practice in bowing, at least outside of occasional square dance competitions. "Victor." I nodded to the other vampire, hoping he would notice the lack of an honorific. He did and raised his eyebrows. Call me petty, but it felt good.

Eric sat down opposite them and I slid in beside him. I grabbed his hand under the table. He intertwined our fingers and gave my palm a squeeze.

"What can I do for you?" Eric asked.

Victor tossed a manila folder on the table. Eric reached for it, but Victor moved so quickly his hands were a blur and pushed it in my direction instead. "It's for Miss Stackhouse."

"Or is it Mrs. Northman?" Felipe gave me a big whopping smile that didn't extend to his eyes. "Please accept my belated congratulations. That is a beautiful ring."

"It's a gift from Pam," I said.

"Your child approves of this marriage?" Victor asked Eric.

With a click, Eric's fangs came down. "She approves of whatever she is instructed to approve of."

"How lovely." Felipe de Castro said, still staring at me. I didn't think he was talking about the ring. When I caught Felipe's eye, he smiled. Again. He was overly friendly, like a creepy Mr. Rogers. I looked away and opened Victor's manila folder.

And almost threw up.

On top was a picture was of a young woman lying in the dumpster behind Fangtasia. It was labeled with a yellow sticker marking it as Shreveport Police Department evidence. There were four other eight by ten glossies in the folder. I couldn't look at them.

Eric took the folder out of my hands before I could.

"You don't seem to be taking our request seriously, Sookie," Victor said. "I do not want any more of Mr. de Castro's employees murdered."

"I understand." I said. And I did. The photo of that poor girl had knocked the pettiness and glee right out of me.

"We hope to have a report from you by the end of the weekend," Victor said. "But yesterday would have been nice too."

"Her results depend on whether the perpetrators come to Fangtasia," Eric said. His fangs were still out.

"Considering two of the deceased are Fangtasia waitresses, I would imagine this is a good place to start. Unless you know more than you are telling us or the human police."

Felipe cleared his throat. "Hush Victor, Eric has been forthcoming." I had watched enough SVU to recognize good cop, bad cop. But I knew better than to think Felipe was on our side.

"I don't want anyone else to get murdered," I said, looking over at the manila folder. The crime scene picture was like a smack in the face. Eric noticed my wandering eyes and placed the folder on the far edge of the table, out of my reach.

Felipe nodded. "Then we want the same thing."

"If you are the next victim, Miss Stackhouse, there will only be one suspect." Victor gave Eric a significant look. "I hoped the media attention would activate your sense of self-preservation, Eric."

I could feel Eric's anger pulse through the bond, but he just shrugged. "I don't follow human news."

"Really? You seem to have enough practice following humans."

Eric was so incensed, I felt like my head was vibrating. I grabbed his knee under the table, but I shouldn't have worried. He didn't blink. "Sookie is too valuable an asset to waste on this small disturbance. Especially since she fits the profile of those targeted." Eric could have been reading the phone book, for all the emotion he showed.

"I agree," Felipe said. "But since you seem convinced Sookie is best left on the regional level, she should make herself useful. And if you don't feel confident in your ability to protect her, perhaps I should intercede? As you said, she is most valuable." Felipe looked me up, then he looked me down, and his fangs popped out. "I won't let anything happen to you, Mrs. Northman."

I don't know how I managed to find my voice, but suddenly I was talking. "If a human is involved, I'll find him. Y'all shouldn't worry."

Victor laughed. "Y'all? How quaint."

Creep. "It's pretty common around here. Where are you from, Victor?" I was boiling at his belittling so I asked before I could think twice. I knew hitting any vampire with a personal question was a faux pas. Even Eric was reticent about his past.

Victor glared at me, but Felipe was still smiling. "Go on. Answer her."

"Massachusetts."

"A Yank," I said. It figured.

Victor hissed and his fangs went down. I'd provoked all three of them. Great. Felipe laughed. "I hope you are not so antithetical to the Spanish, Sookie. We gave you Texas. And tapas. We used to own Louisiana, as a matter of fact."

"And now you own it again." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could shudder them back up.

Luckily Felipe seemed to find my comment more charming than smarmy. "Well, I am not Spain, of course. And these days I consider myself an American."

Victor scowled. "We're not citizens yet."

"We can marry," Felipe said, with a nod in Eric and my direction. "We travel freely. We pay taxes, what is more American than that?" He shook his head at Victor. I got the sense they had this conversation before. "You go on about the Vampire Rights Amendment, but I do not see why you just don't decide to call yourself American if you want. You are older than that piece of paper they call a constitution."

"Were you a pilgrim?" I knew I should be saying as little as possible, but I couldn't help myself. I had an image of Victor in one of those dumb hats with the buckles. Eric was as old as dirt, but he'd been over in Europe somewhere. It would be neat to meet someone who had been around all the stories I'd read in school, even if that someone was Victor Madden.

Victor gave me a look. I was pretty sure he would have ripped out my throat if Felipe hadn't been there.

Felipe laughed and clapped Victor on the shoulder. "Victor was a frontier man. He was turned by an Indian." His eyebrows went up, like it was something exotic.

Eric tensed. I looked over at him, wondering why. "I haven't run across many Native American vampires."

Victor shrugged. "You wouldn't have. You're European."

Felipe and Eric's phones buzzed, saving us from any more of this painful small talk. They flicked them open in unison. "It's Pam. The news truck has left," Eric said, for my benefit.

Felipe shut his phone. "I will be on my way. Pamela is a useful lookout, Eric."

"Watch it, Felipe. I don't want you stealing both of my women," Eric said, with a trace of a smile.

Felipe laughed and stood up. "Is that a challenge?" He nodded to Eric, then he bent down and kissed me on the cheek. "Encantado."

I didn't speak Spanish, but the way he looked at me didn't need a translation. I found Eric's hand under the table. Victor followed his master out of the booth. In contrast to Felipe's over-familiarity, he gave us a stiff nod. "Keep me informed about progress."

"Of course. And please give my regards to Hot Rain." Eric put his arm around my shoulders and flashed Victor one of the smug grins I knew he loved to wear.

Felipe laughed out loud. And to my surprise, Victor smiled as well. "He has been waiting for an update," he said.

They cut through the crowd of fangbangers, heading for the exit.

"Hot Rain," I said, when I saw the door swing behind them. "How did you know?"

"I didn't for sure," Eric replied. "But most vampires are not as disruptive as Victor without a good reason."

"You paid Hot Rain's debt."

"Money doesn't matter to some people." He ran his hand through my hair. "No amount could buy me off if something happened to you."

Something twisted in my chest. "Eric—"

"That is not a line. It's true. That's why Hot Rain has chosen to target you." I looked at him. He met my gaze and there was something in the way he looked at me that made me decide he wasn't putting me on.

"I don't want to be targeted."

"Wanting things that are impossible to change is a waste of energy," Eric said.

I scowled. "Thanks, Eric."

He shrugged. "It's true. You should spend your time deciding how to get out of situations instead of worrying why you got into them. What's done is done."

"Sometimes when I make a mistake, I like to look back so I can learn from it."

Eric shook his head. "I don't think that is what you do. I think you enjoy feeling guilty."

"That's crazy," I said. "Why would I enjoy that?"

He put up his hands. "I say what I see. Sookie, you're wonderful, but there is room for improvement."

I looked at him. "You're not so perfect either," I said, then I kissed him. His lips felt smooth until his fangs pricked my tongue.

Eric made an appreciative noise. Under the booth, he put his hand on my inner thigh. "You're so warm. I miss this when you're away."

"I'll get you an electric blanket."

"I will use it if you buy it," he said. He traced his hand up the inside of my thigh, bunching my dress out of the way. My heart was racing and my skin tingled where he touched me. He reached the top of my legs and ran his fingers over the front of my panties.

"Then I'll buy it," I breathed against him, and kissed the side of his neck.

"That's not enough. You have roll in it. Or better, let me fuck you in it, so I can smell you when I am alone."

"You aren't alone," I said. "Not if you don't want to be."

I couldn't read his face, but I could feel something there, thrumming in the bond. "I don't want to be."

I squeezed our fingers, knotted them together. This was big. If we weren't in public, I would have climbed on top of him and let my body talk for me. Any words I could find wouldn't measure up to Eric's concession. I'd stopped him from saying he loved me, or something like it, the first time we had sex after he regained his memories, because I wasn't sure it meant the same thing to him as it did to me. But this was better. It was almost like an offer of partnership. I knew I felt something for him too. I hadn't as much fallen in love with him as I had been pushed, dragged, tripped—and here I was, doing what he had just said I did—picking over something I couldn't control instead of thinking what to do next.

"You're quiet." He interrupted me.

"I don't feel like talking," I said and kissed him again. He sighed. Eric never even breathed, but he actually sighed. He reached up behind me and pulled my hair out of its ponytail. It fell around my face and he pushed strands out of my eyes and mouth.

I tried to kiss him and he moved to kiss me and we met in the middle. I ran my mouth over his and gasped when he tucked his finger into my panties. Eric twisted his fingers in my hair and pushed me back into the corner of the booth. "Not here," I said. I kissed him again and wormed my way off of him, every part of my body crying for me to wrap myself back around him. "I can't do this in public."

Eric leaned back against the booth. If I didn't know any better, I would say he was flushed. He traced his hand up my thigh and squeezed. "You are not like anyone else. You enjoy making me wait. "

"I don't enjoy it," I said. "But I'm not one of those girls."

Eric looked at me and shook his head. "Why does it have to be you?"

"It doesn't have to be me. But I am sure glad it is."

Eric laughed and gave me a light sloppy kiss, half-on the side of my mouth.

_Fucking cheap whore fat looks like trash why is he bothering I know how to make him want me—_

I looked up, startled at the intrusion. A skinny Goth waitress stood in front of our table, all smiles. She held a tray with a bottle of True Blood and a gin and tonic. "Anything else?" She smiled at Eric, leaning low over the table to treat him to her cleavage as she set down our drinks.

_Big tits fake I wonder if she went to see Doctor Fowler in Jackson, doesn't look like a local job, nobody here knows nothing_. _God_ _he is so beautiful I love him I want him so bad he's mine._

"That's fine," Eric said, barely looking at her.

"Good to see you tonight, Master," the waitress said.

Eric waved his hand to dismiss her.

"She's in love with you," I said, after she left. "Or she thinks she is."

"Maybe she thinks she is." Eric put his arm around my shoulders. "Why do you say love?"

"Why not?"

"Most of them are just after sex," he said.

"They are after what they think they can get."

"They are after a vampire. They choose me because I happen to be the best looking."

I laughed. I needed to keep a tape player to record some of the stuff that came out of his mouth and play it back so he could hear how ridiculous he sounded. "I don't know. Rasul's pretty handsome."

Eric smirked at me. I was glad he knew I was teasing him. "I am serious. They all want a vampire. And you act like it is such a chore."

"Look at it from my point of view," I said. "Other than not hearing thoughts, which I am grateful for, it's sort of a liability. I only see you half of the day, and it's not my usual half. There is the stuff with kids. We can't age together. And then there's all the political baggage. I always end up almost getting killed. But I love you enough I want to work through it."

Eric shook his head. "You tell me what is wrong with me and then you say you love me anyway."

It sounded bad when he put it that way. "I'm sorry."

"No," he said. "It is perfect. I can only appreciate a realist."


	9. Wednesday Night

_She asked for milk and eggs if I say my car broke down does that give me time for one to bite me and still buy eggs—_

_One more drink won't hurt I said just one but I'll stop with one more and tomorrow I'll have none—_

_Why isn't he looking at me? He's like a model I deserve a model I've earned a model after that no good loser—_

Pam walked over with my second gin and tonic of the night. "How's the snooping, Sherlock?"

I sighed. "It's like trying to find the right Smith in the phone book."

Eric had gone to his throne to put in some face time with the paying customers, so I was alone in the booth listening for any clues to the murders. Pam slid in across from me. "He wants me to keep you company."

"Thanks," I said. "You don't have to."

"I don't mind."

I turned back to the crowd. "People hardly ever think about kinds of things others consider important. The murderer could be in here composing his grocery list, or getting drunk, and I would never find him."

"Are sure it is a him?"

"I guess I'm not. I just assumed."

"You also assumed it's one murderer," Pam said. "Maybe the killings aren't linked. People like patterns. They see connections even when events are random. Eric is particularly guilty of this. He believes that everything that doesn't go his way is part of a larger conspiracy."

"He just found out Victor was working for Hot Rain."

Pam sighed. "Well, sometimes he is right. Paranoia makes him a good Sherriff. You know he worked very hard to keep you out of this."

"I want to help," I said. "This isn't just some vampire political thing. I don't want any more women getting killed."

"They are all women like you, Sookie—women who associate with vampires. He wanted to keep you away from it."

I thought back to my conversation with Eric earlier this evening. "He's always telling me not to worry about things I can't change. I'm all over the papers. I'm probably a target anyway. The least I can do is help." I looked over at manila folder of crime scene photos Victor had left, which was still sitting on the far end of the table. I pushed it towards Pam. "Did you know them?"

"Some of them," she said. She opened the folder to the first image I'd seen, of the young girl found behind Fangtasia. I looked over at Eric, lounging in his chair so I wouldn't have to see it. I couldn't revisit the picture. "This girl's name was Cherry. She'd been working here for a few months. I liked her, but she skewed more in Eric's direction."

"Did he like her?" If anything had happened between them, it would have been before we made an agreement, so I wouldn't have a real right to be angry. Even so, I couldn't think about it without feeling queasy.

"No," Pam said, almost smiling. "I wish you could see him when you aren't around. It would make my life much easier, especially if it stopped your nagging and his moping. Cherry wanted him." She looked around the room. "But they all do."

"They want a vampire, and he's the best looking."

"So he's bitched to you, has he?" Pam flipped over to the photo. She kept the folder angled up so I didn't have to see the pictures. "This next one used to fuck around with Clancy. She came into the bar sometimes, but she never worked for us. Emily. She was found in her own home."

"Were any of them drained?"

"No," Pam said. "But all that tells us is that it isn't the work of a stupid, hungry vampire."

"So it could be anyone?"

Pam surveyed the crowd. "It could be the sap thinking of his grocery list." She paged to the next photo. "Mindy worked here. We hired her after Ginger died. She was addicted to V, which made her exceptionally loyal."

"Loyal?" I couldn't believe it.

"She was always on time and extremely compliant because she was looking for handouts. Clancy took care of what she needed blood-wise."

"I had no idea Clancy was so popular."

Pam shrugged. "He made himself available."

"He was so mean. I'm sorry, I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but those poor girls didn't deserve him."

"They sought it out," Pam said, as if that explained anything.

"Even if they had, they didn't deserve to die from it," I said. "Or get hurt."

"Many other humans do not feel that way."

"Many vampires don't feel that way either," I said. "They think people are disposable."

"That is not a fault exclusive to vampires," Pam said. As she turned to the next photo, I tried to think of some of the people I'd known who'd been hurt because of their association with vamps. There was poor Belinda, so devoted to Eric, and the waitress Stan had asked me to interview in Dallas. I was ashamed I couldn't remember her name. "Laura was also found behind Fangtasia, but she was the only victim from outside Area 5. It turned out she was a friend of Gervaise's human Carla."

Carla had been my roommate in Rhodes. "Did Laura hang around vampires?"

"Turns out she was a better friend to Gervaise than to Carla. She was last seen in Baton Rouge."

"So someone must have moved her?"

"Let's just say she had no reason for coming to Shreveport on her own." Pam flipped to the last picture. "This one is sad. Girl working for her uncle in Monroe, twenty-three, Katrina refugee named Susan. No one knew her connection until it turned out she went back to New Orleans to visit her brother most weekends."

"So?"

"So she was fucking Victor Madden while she was down there."

That surprised me. "Really?"

"We got a call from the Vegas vampires the night the Monroe PD found her body. Before they had been happy to let Eric and me handle the case on our own."

I tried to puzzle it out. "So Victor killed her?"

"Or he's upset because his girlfriend's dead." Pam said. "I'd want you on the case if I were in his position." She shut the folder.

"How'd she get involved with Victor?"

Pam shrugged. "Ask him. Or Eric might know."

"Eric thinks Victor is interested in the murders because he wants an excuse to steal me to Vegas."

Pam shook her head. "I think he wants to find out who killed his girlfriend. But what do I know?"

"If its just about her, why would Felipe get involved?"

"Felipe and Victor have known each other for hundreds of years," Pam said. "Victor is practically Felipe's child. Besides, in an ideal world, they could find Susan's murderer and take you to Vegas."

Something else about Victor's involvement bothered me. "The last two victims were dating Sheriffs."

"Eric noticed that too," Pam said. "I'm sure it didn't escape Felipe."

"What kind of person would have access to that information?"

"A vampire," Pam said. "Or you."

I was surprised. "Really? There have to be other humans who know about the vampire..." I struggled to find the right word and settled on "…government." In practice vampire's hierarchy reminded me more of an organized crime racket, but I didn't know how Pam would react to the comparison. I'd watched _The Godfather_ a couple weekends ago on AMC and all those people kissing Al Pacino's hand reminded me a little too much of the Area vamps groveling to Eric. Which made me Diane Keaton. Didn't he get a cut of their earnings? I didn't really want to know.

"Weres might know some," Pam said. "But only high ranking ones like your friend the handyman."

It took me a second to realize who she was talking about. "Do you mean Alcide?"

"He looks so nice in a hard hat," Pam said. "Nice enough to make me reconsider my usual preferences."

I decided to ignore her comment. The last thing Alcide needed was another domineering woman in his life. "What about the day men? What about Bobby? Victor must have a guy too."

Pam sniffed. "Glorified errand boys. They don't know anything."

It was a mistake to underestimate the help. I knew since I was one of them. "I'd like to read their thoughts," I said. "They probably pick things up."

"Of course all these killings could all be a coincidence," Pam said, ignoring me as she flipped through the folder again. "The method is not the same, some were strangled, Laura was shot—"

"All right," I cut her off. "I get it."

Pam closed the folder. "If I were Victor, I would consider you a prime suspect."

That took me by surprise. "That's ridiculous."

"I am just alerting you to a potential danger," she said. "Eric would be angry I'm telling you, but I know he has thought about it."

"Why would Victor think I was behind this?"

"No other human has access to as much knowledge about our government without being more tightly controlled. You seem like a loose cannon. You have a lack of deference in public situations. And you are a man eater."

"Excuse me?"

"You have climbed your way up the food chain. You started with Bill Compton, a vampire of no significance, who you dropped for one of the most powerful Sheriffs in the state. Along the way you've netted several prominent weres and convinced Eric to enter into a boding ceremony that only ever happens between two vampires."

This was news to me. "Wait, really?"

Pam was on a roll. "And now, you've attracted the attention of Felipe de Castro."

"I would never leave Eric for Felipe."

"Victor doesn't know that," Pam said. "You could be playing hard-to-get. I'm sorry, Sookie, but on paper you look like an ambitious slut."

I didn't like Pam's phrasing, but I figured, in her way, she was trying to help me out. "So, Victor could be doing all this to watch Felipe's back?"

"Whatever the reason, he is not watching your back," Pam said. "If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time worrying why Victor's doing what he's doing. I would figure out how to clear my name."

"Pam, you said the ceremony with the knife was only between vampires?"

Pam stared at me. "You should ask Eric."

"He didn't say anything to me."

"You should ask Eric," Pam repeated.

Her refusal to say anything pretty much confirmed it. Pam's slip didn't contradict anything Eric had told me about the ceremony, but that was only because he'd told me next to nothing. When we'd talked about a few days ago, he'd acted like it was no big deal. I looked over at Eric, lounging in that tacky throne. Some girl had curled up at his feet, but he was looking at his phone, probably playing Solitaire. I sighed. "Why does he make everything so complicated?"

"For a thousand years he's only had to answer to himself," Pam said. "You've only had twenty years, but you're almost as bad."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Pam."

"If only you saw what I do. He is on his best behavior when you are around."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You will believe what you want," Pam said. "But I've never seen him like this."

"I love him." I said. Now that I'd said it to him, I couldn't backtrack. "I'm not a man eater, Pam. I'd rather he weren't tied up in all this politics. But there's something about him that makes me—"

"You should write this in a letter to Abby," Pam cut me off. "Or tell Eric himself. I am already in enough trouble and I do not wish to be forced to repeat your declaration to him later."

"He wouldn't make you do that."

Pam just looked at me. "One day I will give you a behind the scenes tour of how crazy you make him. Then I hope you will be kinder to him, for my sake."

Before I could decline her offer, Pam's phone buzzed. She picked it up and scowled. "Lovely. I have to deliver Bill his blood."

"Tell him I am thinking of him."

"I will not," Pam rose to her feet and picked up the folder of crime scene images. "Do you want this?"

"No, but I should probably take it." I held out my hand. Steeling myself, I opened the folder to that first horrible photograph. "Why is it always women?"

Pam shrugged. "You give me a reason, I'll give you ten more. We're pretty. We're weak. We're unattainable. And if we say no to a man who wants to fuck us, we have no reason to live."

"That's pretty bleak, Pam."

"You asked me."

I looked at Cherry's picture. "I can't understand it."

"How nice that must be for you," Pam said, and was gone.

I closed the folder. I felt exhausted. Pam's information convinced me that the murderer probably wasn't some sick individual who lurked around Fangatasia. I would bet that he wasn't a member of the Fellowship either. He had to be someone who knew vampires, if not a vampire himself. It might even be Victor, although I was less sure of that than I had been before. Why would Victor kill his girlfriend?

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Eric. I rolled my eyes and looked over at him, twenty feet away. A group of five women had taken up residence at the table in front of his throne and were doing their best to attract his attention. One of them had even ordered a True Blood. All five were all mascaraed up and squeezed into satin tubes some might confuse with dresses, looking barely legal but totally willing.

_Go into my office and send me a picture_

I knew what kind of picture Eric meant. It was the kind of picture people got prosecuted for before 1960.

_Fat chance_, I wrote back.

I watched Eric open his phone and read my message. Then I grabbed the crime scene folder, stood up, and walked towards the back. I figured I'd take a nap in his office until he was ready to leave. As I walked past the table of girls, Eric's eyes flickered up to me. God, he really did look like a model. I was so used to seeing him, I forgot how handsome he was. He waved me over.

The five girls turned to stare at me as one as I squeezed past their table. I specifically blocked out their thoughts. I was too tired and I'd heard it all before. Eric's throne was on some dumb sort of dais so I had to climb up a step or two to get to him. We were a couple inches above the rest of the club and it made me feel really exposed.

"What?" I said when I got to him. "I can't believe you made me come up here."

"Thirty more minutes," he replied. "I set four hour shifts for the Area vampires and follow my own rules."

Now I felt guilty for snapping at him. "Sorry," I said. "That sounds good."

Eric put his hands around my waist. "Kiss me."

I glanced over my shoulder. People were probably just going about their business, but standing up high it felt like the whole club was looking at us. "Eric, not here."

"Lover." He wouldn't let go of my waist. The five girls started whispering. I figured I was better off just getting this done. I'd rather display some public affection than get into a public battle of wills. I bent down quick as I could and gave him a peck on the cheek.

A flash went off. I blinked, bright lights dancing on the inside of my eyelids. When I opened my eyes, Eric was in front of the table of girls, holding a digital camera aloft. "No pictures," Eric said. The club was totally quiet, except for KDED.

"That was 'Let it Bleed,' by the Stones." Connie the Corpse's voice drifted in over the loudspeaker. "And here's something we could all use."

As some singer started crooning about fresh blood, all five of the girls stared at Eric, their mouths open. The bravest stammered out, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, this is our first time in a vamp bar."

Eric crushed the camera in his fist and dropped the pieces on the table. "Send me the bill." The noise of the club started up again, everyone looking in the opposite direction. The girls were too shocked to even blink.

I walked off the dais and pushed past the table without looking at Eric. I didn't want pictures of us getting out, but it was totally unacceptable to terrorize a bunch of dumb teenagers. I'd sit in his office and cool off. Hopefully in thirty minutes, I'd be able to talk to him without screaming.

I stopped in the bathroom on my way to splash some water on my face. As I was finishing up, one of the girls walked in. She hesitated when she saw me at the sink. I realized she was probably afraid of me. "It's ok, come in." I gave her a smile and tried to look as non-threatening as possible.

She stepped towards me, teetering on four-inch heels. "Your boyfriend is pretty scary."

I looked at myself in the mirror. "He's my husband."

_Dumb slut marrying a vampire—_

I turned around, shocked.

"What's that like?" the girl asked.

_Just give me a quote you stupid bitch so I can get the hell out of here. The story is only worth two thou without a photo—_

"Did you follow me in here?" I asked.

"Just to apologize." The girl didn't know I knew. Of course she didn't, why would she think I could read her mind? "I don't want to get you in trouble. Living with him must be pretty frightening." She was trying to lead me into incriminating Eric.

"You're the one I should be apologizing to," I said, taking out my phone. "Just give me one second."

_The girls are reporters,_ I texted Eric. _I got one in the bathroom._

----

After that, it was just a matter of rounding the chickens up and glamouring them. Eric got the other four back in his office so I could read their thoughts. Only the one from the bathroom was a journalist. Another was a professional photographer, but the remaining three were interns, picked out of the bullpen because they looked young enough for a night on the town. The most upsetting thing to me was that they worked for the _Dallas Morning News_.

"The story's crossed state lines," I said as we watched them pile into their rented Ford Expedition and speed out of the lot. Eric glamoured them to think they'd driven up and down I-20 for hours without finding Fangtasia.

"They haven't published anything yet. Even if they did, humans read something one day, they forget it the next," he said, opening Fangtasia's employee door for me. We walked back into the bar.

"I'm a little angry at you for crushing their camera," I said as we started down the hallway to his office.

Eric looked at me like I was crazy. "They were reporters." He opened the door to his office and we stepped inside.

"You didn't know that when you destroyed their property."

Eric shrugged. "No pictures. It's the rule. I crush cameras every night. The tourists love it. They want me to crush cameras."

"The girls were scared out of their minds."

"People come to Fangtasia to get scared. I make my money scaring people." Eric took a seat behind his desk and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't know." I flopped down on his office couch and put my head in my hands. I was exhausted and I kept flashing back to the crime scene photograph I'd seen. "Pam and I spent the whole night talking about the five women who were murdered. I can't get them out of my head. Then there were five girls at the table. I know you wouldn't have hurt them, Eric. But it was frightening. You were frightening."

Eric looked up from his papers. "Good."

I stared at him. I had expected more of a reaction.

Eric looked back at me and something in his face softened. "I'm sorry if I scared you, lover."

"You didn't," I said. "I know in a weird way you were just doing your job, but it is strange for me to fit these parts of you together." It didn't bother me to see Eric fighting other vampires or other supes, which I had, on multiple occasions. Maybe my problem was because those girls had seemed so defenseless. The balance of power didn't even deserve to be termed balance.

"I am what I am," Eric said and turned back to his work.

That was true. And he never pretended otherwise, which was worth a whole lot. Maybe I should just let it go for now. "Will you come to dinner at my brother's?"

Eric looked up from his papers. "Excuse me?"

"My brother's new girlfriend invited us over for dinner Friday. You know my brother, you met him—"

"When he was trying to extort money from Pam for you housing me, yes I remember."

That was one, not entirely inaccurate, way of putting it. "Well, I think his girlfriend is a good influence."

"Do you want to go?"

His question surprised me because I half-expected him to just say no. "What?"

"If you don't want to go, I will say no and you can blame it on me." Eric said. "They are your people, you should decide."

"So you would go?"

"If you want me to, yes."

"I want you to go. My brother is trying to mend bridges and I think Michele may be one of the better things that's happened to him."

Eric looked at me and smiled. "Do you know what this means?"

"What?" His grin made me a little worried.

"Next time I would like you to go somewhere, or work for me, you will have to say yes."

"Eric, this isn't a quid pro quo."

"You're right." He walked out from behind his desk and put his arms around my waist. "We do these favors because we care about each other."

I swatted him and he laughed and kissed the side of my neck. "I can't wait to have dinner with your brother, Sookie. Was that sincere enough for you?"

I laughed as he picked me up and threw me back onto his couch. "As long as it sounds sincere Friday."

"Tell me about this Michele. Why is she so interested in me? Is she a fangbanger?"

"Ew, no, Eric, she works for a dentist. She is just being nice."

"Profession doesn't matter." He popped his fangs and climbed on the couch next to me. I wrapped my legs around his waist. "But if you think she's trustworthy—"

"I can hear her thoughts, remember?"

"Have you listened to her?"

"Not really, but she's good people. We went to vacation bible school together when we were kids."

Eric gave me a very big smile and started unbuttoning my dress. "Bible school? That explains everything."

"It was only for a week in the summer," I said. "It was mostly for the kids who couldn't afford to go away to camp."

"What is camp?" Eric kissed the tops of my breasts.

I leaned back against the sofa and let the tension roll of me. I rubbed my hands down Eric's back. "Camp is a place in the forest where you sleep outside and learn to paddle boats and do sports and I don't know, tie different kinds of knots." Most of what I knew about it came from other people's thoughts.

"It sounds like being a Viking," Eric said. He pulled his shirt over his head.

I put my hand on his bare chest. "As much as I don't want to stop this, aren't we going to your house?"

----

_A/N: Belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO. Thanks for reading and for the reviews!_

_Sookie just gave us our marching orders for the next chapter, which will probably be called something ridiculous like "Wednesday late night" or "Thursday early morning hours." I'm running out of names for nighttime…_


	10. Thursday Morning

It was just after midnight and Fangtasia's parking lot was still filling up. As Eric and I headed for home, a tall woman and her date hopped out of their muddy Dodge pickup. The date wolf-whistled, whether at me or Eric or the world, I wasn't sure. I put my arm around Eric and gave his butt a squeeze to mark my territory, just in case the whistle was meant for us. As the couple stumbled toward Fangtasia's ID check, Eric dropped a kiss on the top of my head and pressed the automatic unlock button on his keys. Nothing happened. Eric pressed it again. And again, nothing happened.

He looked at me. "Lover, where is my car?"

We were surrounded by the lemons and beat-up pickups owned by the folks at Fangtasia. Pam's Lexus was the nicest in the lot, because I'd ditched Eric's convertible at the Circle K gas station across the street. Between the Vegas vamps and the undercover reporters, I'd forgotten to tell him.

I didn't know how to sugarcoat it. "I left your car at the gas station."

"That gas station?" Eric pointed. I nodded. Circle K's neon sign winked at me from across six lanes of high-speed off-ramp traffic. "You can't leave a corvette at a gas station."

"Well, I did." I even felt bad about it, but I didn't think that would make it easier for him to hear. "I couldn't drive your car past that news truck. I'm sorry, Eric, but I did my best."

"Corvettes are not like other cars, Sookie. You can't leave them lying around."

"I said I was sorry, Eric. I bet it's fine." I more 'hoped' than 'bet' but there was no use getting upset unless the corvette had been keyed, or worse, stolen.

"Next time, you can use Bill's car." Eric must be mad. There was no other way he'd give me an excuse to interact with Bill. He was also ordering me around like a child, but I'd encouraged it by letting him provide a car for me in the first place.

"Forget it. I'm overdue to get my own car anyway."

"Don't waste your money. Take Bill's." Eric took my hand and pulled me towards the gas station.

"I said no thanks."

"He won't notice, and if he did, he'd wouldn't mind."

It was true, but that didn't make it a good reason. "I don't want to encourage him."

Eric didn't say anything. I found his silence more unsettling that the argument. "What is it?" Eric gave me that blank look he used to slither out of conversations he didn't want to have. He'd used it to great advantage during our police interrogation, but I wasn't about to let him turn it on me. "Eric, I will be more mad if you don't say what you're thinking."

"I have nothing to say." If Eric had been human, I would have heard whatever the problem was in his thoughts by now. I wasn't used to working this hard.

I stared at him. He stared back. Finally, he caved. "You say you don't encourage Bill, but you do without meaning to."

"Bill is my friend."

"Just your friend?"

"That's an unfair question. Bill and I—" I didn't know where to begin, so I restarted. "For a long time I hated Bill and we're finally beginning to reach an understanding. I want to keep going that way if it's possible. Maybe you're right, Eric, and he's more than a friend, but it will never be romantic and it's unfair for you to imply it is."

"That isn't what I'm doing. I want you to be aware of how you treat him so you can control it. "

I rolled my eyes. Mr. High-handed. "Thanks for policing my behavior."

"You forget I can feel you. You offered him your blood because you wanted to help. A vampire would not do what you did. We don't encounter kindness often, and when some of us do, especially young ones like Bill, it can be addictive."

"You're saying I'm addictive?" It sounded ridiculous to me.

"You are very special, yes. And that is exactly my point. If you are the only person treating Bill with respect, it will be hard for him to move on."

"I'm not doing anything wrong treating Bill like a person."

"You are not being kind."

"So I'm being unkind by being kind? Why do you care? You wouldn't spit if Bill needed water." As soon as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. Eric was keeping Bill alive, however grudgingly, by sending him blood. And Bill didn't drink water anyway. "I'm sorry."

"I don't like talking about Bill, but I feel sorry for him." Eric smiled, but he almost looked sad. "I have a unique perspective on your appeal."

We had reached the edge of parking lot. Circle K was now six lanes of traffic away. A semi whizzed past us, so close the fly-by breeze stung my cheek.

"Let's go home," Eric said.

I nodded. The Bill conversation felt too heavy, and Eric looked somber, which he almost never did. "I'll think about what you said, but I'm not going to push Bill away."

"It isn't all or nothing," Eric said, "as much as I might like it to be. I'm talking about an awareness."

I sighed. "Is there a crosswalk?"

Eric ignored me and stepped into the street. A car barreled by inches from him. If would have screamed if I'd had the time to process it, but before I could, he scooped me into his arms. One minute a minivan hurtled at us full-speed, and the next we were in the Circle K lot and Eric set me on my feet.

The ground wobbled, the gas station lights whorled, and I threw up. I put my hand over my mouth and leaned up slow, letting the horizon straighten itself at whatever pace it wanted. "Could you grab me a napkin from inside?" I heard the Circle K entrance bell ring once, then again, and Eric was back with a pile of napkins. "Thanks. I don't think I should go that fast." The human body wasn't built for it. I held out my hand for the napkins, training my eyes on the ground. I was afraid that if I looked at Eric, my head would start spinning again. I wiped my mouth and straightened up, thanking God that I remembered to pack my toothbrush.

Something wet trickled over my lip and down my chin.

"Your nose is bleeding," Eric said. His fangs popped out.

Gross. "Don't even think about it."

Eric took some napkins out of my hand and held them under my nose so I could tilt my head back. "Thanks." Eric seemed subdued and there was something almost melancholy pulsing through the bond. I didn't know if it was the conversation about Bill or the fact I had denied him my nosebleed. I assumed the former. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?"

"I'll heal, and I asked you."

"I am always the same." Eric said, choosing not to answer me for the second time. "I'm sorry you are hurt."

I sighed. "I'm sorry about your car."

"It is only a car."

Against all odds, the corvette was fine and right where I left it. I said a little private thank you to Jesus, climbed into the passenger seat, and pressed recline. "I'm just going to close my eyes until we get there," I said to Eric.

He revved the engine. "It will be soon. I will drive fast."

"What's the speed limit?"

----

I bargained Eric down to sixty. It was a crawl for him, but just about all I could handle. My head started feeling normal again about ten minutes into the ride. I opened my eyes in time to see us turn into a nondescript neighborhood filled with boxy ranchers and two-story colonials. All the homes had painted shudders and brick mailboxes.

Eric zoomed past a sign reminding us that speed limit was 25 miles per hour. "Alamo Court," I read as we whizzed by.

"The streets are Texas-themed," Eric said, as we made a sharp left turn onto the Way of Six Flags.

"Why isn't it Six Flags Way?"

"Do I look like the developer?" Eric pulled in front of a mailbox at the start of a long driveway with gravel identical to mine. Eric popped open the mailbox, took out a sheaf of letters, and passed them to me.

"You go by Eric Norton?" I said, looking at the name on the front of what appeared to be an electricity bill.

"At this address. Eric Northman is already too easy to find." Eric looked over his shoulder and began to back into the driveway. I smiled. Eric looked over at me. "What?"

"Most people drive in front-first."

He shrugged. "Then they create more work later." We pulled up behind the house and Eric shut off the corvette.

Eric's house was a little smaller than I had imagined. It was a one-story brick single-family home. All in all, it looked totally unremarkable, which was probably what he had been going for.

"Do you need help getting out?" Eric asked.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm feeling better." Eric put his arm around me anyway as we walked to the back door. After Eric unlocked two different sets of bolts, it opened onto a converted garage with a washing machine, lawn equipment, and various boxes. Before I could step inside, Eric swept me up and carried me over the threshold.

I was touched. "Who told you to do that?"

"I have been around for a while."

Mr. Understatement. "I think someone is supposed to give us a broom and bag of flour too."

"I will tell Pam. In my time, we would exchange money." Of course they did. "Your father would pay me for the trouble of taking you off his hands."

I didn't know what to say without sounding culturally insensitive. "Well, I'm glad I live now."

Eric set me down and switched on the lights. We were standing next to a brand new, top-of-the-line lawn mower Jason probably would have left Michele for. "Do you use this?"

"No one cuts their lawn at night." Eric said. "I hire someone. He thinks I am always out of town on business trips."

"Then why own it?"

"In case of burglars. Most people own a machine, no?" He led me up the stairs into a kitchen with immaculate, and no doubt, barely-used appliances. After salivating over Eric's sleek stainless-steel oven, coffee maker, dishwasher and refrigerator, I opened the first set of cabinets I ran across. They were empty. I dropped Eric's mail on the countertop.

"What are you looking for, lover?"

"Just snooping," I said. "Looking for all your secrets."

"You are my biggest secret."

"Very funny, and I'm not so secret anymore. Have you read the paper lately?"

"Eric Norton is not a subscriber."

"You have to keep track of news somehow. You manage a fifth of Louisiana."

"By the time I'm up, the newspaper is already old. I have sources."

"Like what?"

"If I tell you, what's to stop you from taking my job?" Eric smiled and kissed my neck.

"Very funny."

"Don't laugh. You would make a good Sherriff."

"Thanks," He seemed sincere and definitely meant it as a compliment, but I wasn't interested. Eric's job scared me. I also wasn't a vampire.

"Your enemies would always underestimate you because of these," Eric cupped my breasts, "and this," he slapped my ass, "and then you would show them who was the boss."

"That's basically how my life goes now, without the boss part."

"Do not whine. You show many people you are the boss." Eric scooped me up and deposited me on his kitchen counter. Eric slid his hands up my thighs, bunching my dress around my waist. He hooked his thumbs under the band of my panties and pulled them off.

"Impatient," I said.

"I am the boss tonight." He kissed the curve where my throat met my shoulder. I shivered as Eric kissed his way down the deep neckline of my red dress. I wrapped my hands in his hair and my legs around his waist. "I love this red," Eric said, when he reached the top of my cleavage. "It makes your skin flush. I can see everything underneath."

Eric's fangs popped and I realized by 'everything underneath,' he meant my blood. It was a little more Jack-the-Ripper than Prince Charming, but I didn't want to ruin the moment for him. "Are you hungry?"

"I'll eat later." He straightened up and kissed the side of my face, trailing his lips around my ear and putting to rest any doubts about where he'd be getting his meal.

"Speaking of food, do you have anything for me?" Eric looked at me for a second and unbuckled his belt. I laughed and grabbed his hand to stop him as he started on his fly. "No, real food. Human food, for when I wake up."

"No." Eric walked over to his fridge, belt hanging loose and the top button of his trousers open. I slid off the counter and wrapped my arms around him as he opened the fridge. One side was stocked with perfectly even rows of A negative True Blood, the other side was its mirror image in B negative. The whole arrangement was very Type A.

Eric noticed me staring. "It's so I can make AB," he said, as if that clarified anything. "If you get hungry during the day you may take the car. Don't order delivery."

"Because no one comes to your house?"

"Not even Eric Norton comes to my house." He put his arms around my waist and buried his head in my hair.

I wanted to get on to the loving part of the evening too, but I had a few to dos to cross off my list first. I slithered out of his embrace and back onto the counter. "Eric, I want to see Bobby tomorrow."

"Why? "

"I want to read his mind to see if he knows anything about the murders," I said. "I'm not saying he did it, I just want to be sure he's clear."

Eric grabbed a paper and pen and scribbled down a number. "This is how I reach him."

"I'll make up a reason to talk to him so he doesn't get suspicious." I took Bobby's number, put it down on the counter next to me and took a breath. I expected my second errand would be harder to squeak by Eric. "I'm also going to see Alcide."

Eric frowned. "For what purpose?"

"He's packmaster, so he should know if people are getting killed in his territory. Also, Pam mentioned a were might know enough about vampires to target women linked to Sheriffs—"

"So you will read his thoughts?"

"Alcide isn't the killer. But he might have a clue of who it could be."

"Are you looking for my blessing?"

"No. I'm letting you know."

"Noted," Eric said. "I'm not happy about it."

"Noted," I echoed. He glared at me. I decided to make peace. I grabbed his belt loops and pulled him close. "I'll be leaving from here to see him and when I'm done, I'll be back to watch you wake up."

Eric wrapped his arms around me. "What are you thinking?"

The question caught me by surprise. "Nothing really. I'm thinking about being here with you. What about you?"

"I wish there weren't other men in your life."

I laughed. "Who was lecturing me earlier about not wishing things I couldn't change?"

"This could change."

"Eric, I will always have my own life. That's non-negotiable. And right now, I'd like you to be a big part of it, so stop moping or I'll go back to Bon Temps."

"You have no car keys."

He had me there. "Well I don't want to leave anyway."

"Good." With that Eric scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder. "Give yourself the tour tomorrow morning."

----

After a detour to the bathroom so I could brush my teeth, we went straight to Eric's bedroom.

And by straight to his bedroom, I mean straight through a door that opened onto a windowless corridor that led to another door, which led to his bedroom. Eric insisted on carrying me. He hoisted me in with one hand and flicked on the lights with the other. The room had no windows. Eric tossed me on his bed—a big King with blue covers—pulled off his shirt and crawled up my legs to kiss me. "Lover," he said and made the kiss a double.

I rolled on top of him. As he began to unbutton my dress, I looked over to the left and my heart stopped. A flashlight sat on top of what I assumed was the 'hers' of Eric's his and hers nightstands.

"Did you get that for me?"

"I have no interest in being your seeing-eye dog."

It was thoughtful and a little unexpected. But then again, Eric's presents were always practical, if a little over-the-top. Eric had repaved my driveway, paid my cell phone bill, and bought me a winter coat. I used all of those gifts on a daily basis. To be fair, he'd broken my old cell phone and my old coat was material evidence to manslaughter, but the driveway had been spontaneous. "Eric, thank you."

Eric kissed my stomach. "Take your dress off."

"What?" I smiled at him. "Am I talking too much for you?"

"Lover, enough," he growled and flipped me over. We kissed like teenagers for a while. He dragged my bottom lip between his teeth, sending chills through me. "Eric," I whispered, sweeping my mouth over his jaw and trailing kisses down his neck.

I'd like to take a quick minute out to say that if I had to take Eric on his aesthetic and athletic merits alone, I'd be a dumb woman not to sign on the dotted line. I don't know if it's a superman physique or a thousand years of practice, but for ten seconds or a little more, he makes my body feel better than it ever has. It's the minutes before and after those ten seconds that make my head hurt and make me want to cry and are real work, and when they go the right way, really work for me.

"What are you thinking about, lover?" he asked. I was daydreaming and not pulling my weight.

"You," I said. I kissed him to make up for the time we'd lost. I ran my fingers over the planes of his back, skating down his torso to that world-class butt.

"Tell me more."

This sharing felt strange, but not unwelcome. "I'm thinking how much I like to be with you," I said. "Like this, but also, not like this."

"Is this how all your thoughts go?" Eric said, kissing his way down my stomach. He rubbed his hand up my inner thigh and drew my legs apart. "Like this but not like this?"

"Obviously not," I said. I leaned my head back and let him do his thing. Just when I was about to reach my good minute, he leaned over me.

"Ready?"

"Yes." He pushed into me. I gasped and wrapped my arms around his back. He was close as he could get, but I wanted him closer. I wanted to melt the lines between him and me.

----

When I opened my eyes, I realized it had to be morning, even though it was dark and I was still lying next to Eric. His hand was my inner thigh, fingers crooked against my leg. It was the first time in my entire life I had ever woke up next to somebody I slept with. I slung my arm over his chest and kissed the side of his neck. Then stopped. Eric was always cool and he never had a pulse, but this felt different. He was as inanimate as the bed. Eric was a corpse.

I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my flashlight and shone it on him. From this angle, if I didn't stare too long and squinted, he almost looked asleep. After ten seconds when he didn't fidget or breathe, it became obvious his stillness was something else.

"You're dead," I said to Eric. He didn't move.

It was one thing to know you're dating a dead man and then another to wake up next to him and have to fight the urge to call the coroner. I decided to leave before I convinced myself to try to wake him up.

Eric's half of the house was dark, even after I got out of the double set of light-tight doors. He'd drawn the blinds on the few windows around. When I reached the living room and kitchen, slats of morning sunlight filtered in through cracked venetian blinds. I felt relieved and actually sighed as I switched the flashlight off and put it on the kitchen countertop. I went over to the kitchen window and pulled up the blinds. Sunlight pooled into the room, skating across the kitchen table and bathing the interior in a bright glow. I'd been in the dark so long, my eyes stung and I had to shut them. Colored dots danced on the inside of my lids. I'd only been out of the sun for twelve hours. Rhodes must have been terrible for Eric.

When my vision readjusted, I poked around to find breakfast. Then I remembered Eric had no food in the house. I opened a few cabinets to be sure. They were all empty, except for the last one I tried which contained a couple sets of drinking glasses: tumblers, highballs, champagne, wine, and martini glasses, and a blue and yellow beer stein with "_Sverige"_ written on it. Eric must have bought them all for drinking True Blood alone in his house. I took out one of the martini glasses and inspected it for signs of use. It looked immaculate. I put it back and took out an ordinary tumbler. I did the only thing possible and poured myself a glass of water for breakfast. Then I picked Bobby's number off the countertop where Eric had left it night before, pulled out my cell phone and dialed.

After two rings, Bobby picked up. "Yeah?"

"Bobby Burnham?"

"Speaking."

Somebody had learned his phone skills from Eric. "Bobby, this is Sookie Stackhouse." Silence. "I'm Eric's—"

"I know who you are."

That was good because I wasn't sure what my next word would have been. Probably 'wife' because I wanted Bobby to jump when I said now. "Listen, Bobby, I was wondering if you could help me out with something today."

"I work for Eric."

I couldn't blame Bobby for being pissy. I wouldn't want to take requests from Sam's significant other, for instance. I thought quick. "It's a job for Eric. He wants me to drop off instructions."

"Tell me over the phone."

"It's too important."

Bobby was quiet for a second. "Where are you?"

I don't know if Eric considered Bobby enough of an individual to include him in the blanket moratorium on house visits, but just in case, I didn't want to overload the approved guest list. "I don't want to trouble you. I'll come meet you wherever it'd be convenient."

"Can you find Fangtasia?"

Did he think I was stupid? "What time?"

"Meet me in the parking lot around eleven." Bobby hung up.

Now that my talk with Bobby was sorted, I needed to see if Alcide had time for me to stop by. I hadn't seen him since Tray's funeral. He'd given me a hug, but neither of us had been in the mood for talking. I scrolled through my phone until I found his number, three times. I had contact information for Alcide at work, home and on his cell. Maybe Eric was right to be jealous. I glanced at the clock over the oven. It was 9:34 am. Alcide would probably be in the office.

"Herveaux and Sons, Jenny speaking."

"Hi, is Alcide available?"

"Who's asking for him?"

"Sookie Stackhouse."

"One minute, hon."

She stuck me on hold. "Herveaux and Sons is a family business that's called Shreveport, Louisiana home since 1946." Alcide must be doing really well if he could afford one of those hold recordings. " We specialize in demolition, excavation, and home construction—"

"This is Alcide."

"Hi Alicide, it's Sookie."

"Yep. Jenny said you were on the line."

So I didn't get a hello. "You have some time later today? I've got a couple things I'd like to talk to you about."

"I don't know, Sook, my schedule's pretty full."

"It's not social, Alcide. I have some news."

"If it's political, maybe Eric should talk to me."

So Eric was the itch in his trousers. He'd probably heard about the wedding. "Eric's not going to make time for you. I will."

That shut him up for a second or two. "I can give you lunch."

"I'll take it," I said. "You just tell me when and where to meet you and I'll be there."

We agreed to a Denny's a couple stops down I-20 from Fangtasia. I hung up the phone, feeling totally exasperated. Alcide was nice to look at and basically kind-hearted but he was more passive aggressive than Scarlett O'Hara. I was glad I hadn't taken him up on his offer of moving in all those months ago, even though it would have been nice to have company at breakfast. Funnily enough, Alcide was the only person I had ever been engaged to, since Eric and I skipped that step. It lasted a half-an-hour and had only been to fool a bunch of Keystone cops.

I finished my glass of water by myself and wandered back to the dark part of the house to find Eric's shower.

----

Before I left to meet Bobby, I returned to Eric's bedroom, flashlight in hand. I had a test to pass.

"Hello, lover." I trained the flashlight on the bed. As I expected, Eric was right where I had left him, inert down to the hair. "Well, dead people don't move." I said, then scowled. The talking-to-myself thing had to stop.

I forced myself to get back in bed with him, and threw an arm over his stiff shoulders. I closed my eyes. My body was screaming to get out of there, in the throes of some prehistoric don't-lie-down-with-the-dead instinct.

Instead, I pulled Eric's his limp arm around me. "I will like this," I said to him. "You're in there somewhere."

And just like that, I was spooning with a dead guy.

----

_A/N: Belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO. Thanks for reading and for the reviews! _

_Next up, Sookie enjoys Denny's dining and Bobby's bitching. Also, Eric will probably rise from the dead, because who wants a chapter without him?_


	11. Thursday Afternoon

When my phone started ringing, I was on I-20 one exit north of Fangtasia. Keeping an arm on the wheel and an eye on the road, I dug into my purse one-handed and came out with my cell.

I didn't recognize the number. It was a 318, Shreveport's area code. I weighed the pros and cons of answering. These days, nobody contacted me to chat and a fair percentage of the people I ran across wanted to kidnap me, murder me, or kidnap me then murder me, you get the idea. But since vamps were dead for the day, that cut out a good third of the people who wished me harm.

As I stared at my phone, the ringer played out and clicked over to voicemail. That solved my problem.

Immediately, my phone rang again, same number. I answered before I could start another round of second-guessing. Better to know the problem than leave myself in the dark. The ostrich in the sand got the knife in the back and so forth. "Hello?"

"Ms. Stackhouse?"

"Who's speaking?"

"This is Bobby Burnham." Bobby must have saved my number when I called him. I'd hyped an innocent phone call into a potential assassination attempt. I was spending too much time around vampires. "Meet me at the Circle K across from Fangtasia." Bobby sounded like he was trying to earn points on his cloak-and-dagger rewards card.

I'd had enough of the Circle K to last me several lifetimes. "What's wrong with Fangtasia?"

"You'll see when you get here." Bobby hung up.

----

Bobby hadn't exaggerated.

A group of twenty or so Fellowship of the Sun protesters had set up outside Fangtasia, waving signs covered with such gems as UNDEAD CAN'T WED, EXHUME THE GROOM, and JUST BURIED. A clean-cut guy in a plaid button down stuffed fliers into the windshield wipers of the cars stopped at a nearby red light. The drivers honked at him and one woman leaned out her window to scream. She balled up her flier and threw it at his head. The centerpiece of the protest was a coffin set up on a couple folding tables. The coffin's current resident was a blow-up sex doll wearing a wedding dress. The breeze caught her veil, flapping it in and out of the coffin. A placard in front of the display read WE LIKE BRIDES WITH A PULSE.

I couldn't get to the Circle K fast enough. The last thing I wanted was a flier in my windshield wipers.

I saw Bobby as I pulled in. He sat on the trunk of what I assumed was his car, drinking a Circle K slushie and watching the protest. I parked next to him and put on my sunglasses before I got out of the corvette. I didn't know if any of the protesters would recognize me on sight, but I didn't want to risk it. The BLDSKR license plate was enough of a lure. "How long have they been here?"

"As long as I've been," Bobby said, taking a long draw on his slushie, "so at least ten minutes."

I sat next to Bobby on his trunk. He gave me a look, but didn't say anything. "You think they know the vamps are asleep?"

"One would assume, but they aren't going for the vamps." He passed me one of their fliers. "You'll want to remember to give this to Mr. Northman."

Now it was my turn to give him a look. "I'll try," I said, and took the paper from him.

In my few interactions with Bobby, he treated me like a piece of gum on his shoe. When I dipped into his thoughts, I wasn't surprised he thought I was a bimbo. Then Bobby stopped denigrating me and imagined giving Eric head in the back seat of the corvette. I stared at Bobby. He smiled and took a long draw on his slurpee, twisting the plastic straw between his lips. In Bobby's thoughts, Eric groaned.

I felt like I had been smacked. It was possessiveness more than the gay thing. But I couldn't blame Bobby for his private thoughts. It wasn't my business and as far as I knew, Bobby hadn't acted on his fantasy. Empirically, Eric was hot and plenty of people fantasized about him. Hell, selling Eric was part of Fangtasia's business model. The chances that Eric would hook up with Bobby ranged from unlikely to impossible.

I looked for the silver lining. Infatuation might make Bobby a more loyal business associate. Eric would probably see it that way. The fantasy helped explain why a grown man chose to spend his days picking up Eric's laundry. It also made Bobby's poor treatment of me a little more understandable. I was surprised to find myself feeling sorry for him.

"Is there something on my face?" Bobby asked.

"Sorry, I zoned out." I gave him my best 'Crazy Sookie' grin. If Bobby already assumed I was an airhead, it couldn't do any harm. Not that he'd be able to figure out the mind-reading thing, but I really didn't want to give him any clue to what I'd seen. If it had been Bobby looking in on my dirty dreams, I'd be mortified.

Bobby nodded to the Fellowship flier he'd given me. "You need help reading?"

I bit back a snappy comment. "No, thanks."

The title was _BETTER OFF DEAD?_ and they had pasted my high-school yearbook picture underneath it. It was the same snapshot that ran on the front page of the _Bon Temps Gazette_. The rest was a hyperactive screed about how vampires corrupted American women and undermined families. The paper cited a declining birthrate and a climbing deathrate and ended with a call to petition the Governor to intervene on behalf of life.

"Eric's not mentioned by name." I said. Bobby didn't say anything, but he thought it was lucky for Eric. Considering the pamphlet featured my name and picture and said I was better off dead, I thought it was pathetic and sexist they didn't even mention the dead guy I was married to. I thought back to my conversation with Pam last night. "The girl always gets the flack."

Bobby could care less. He proved my theory by thinking I placed Eric at risk. "Mr. Northman should see this." He nodded to the flier. "Will you remember to give it to him?"

"Of course I will."

"I can bring it to Fangtasia tonight so you wouldn't have to think about it." Bobby was worried I'd forget. He thought Eric had to be alerted to the protests in case the Fellowship tried to kill him or bomb Fangtasia.

"Sure, thanks for offering." I handed Bobby the flier. I didn't want to look at it anymore and if it meant that much to him, who was I to get in between him and his neuroses? Considering how little Eric had cared about all the media attention thus far, I doubted this newest rant would upset him.

"So what does Mr. Northman have for me?"

It took me a second to realize Bobby was asking for Eric's "instructions." I'd written them at Eric's kitchen table before I left his house this morning and put them in a sealed envelope to up the cloak-and-dagger factor. I had no idea how Eric usually gave Bobby instructions. Probably verbally. I doubted he'd want to leave any kind of written record. "Eric said he wants you to pick up a few things. Bring them to Fangtasia tonight. " To get Bobby really excited, I put on a pout. "Do you know what it is? Eric gave it to me sealed. "

"My work is between Mr. Northman and myself." Bobby put the envelope inside his blazer pocket. He tried not to smirk and failed.

"Eric's so busy these days. I never see him anymore. He's so worried about these murders—" I put my hand over my mouth like I had said too much.

I was worried I was hamming it up, but Bobby took the bait. "What murders?"

"You know, the girls at Fangtasia." I dipped into his head. He was thinking about Eric and my marital problems. Then Bobby thought about how good Eric would look on the throne at Fangtasia when he came in tonight and how Eric would stand up and invite him over to his private booth and Bobby was thinking about how his leg would brush up against Eric's under the booth and then he thought about getting hard—and then he realized he was getting hard and he looked at me and worried I would see it. I had to get out of there. Bobby's thoughts made me feel sad and gross all at once. "Eric won't tell me anything. I thought maybe you'd picked something up."

"Up about what?" Bobby readjusted his position and held his slurpee over his lap. I looked over at the protesters so I could give Bobby some privacy.

"The murders," I repeated. "The women who have been killed."

Bobby started thinking I was a dumb cow who watched too much CSI. He imagined me on the couch watching television. Then he imagined Eric on the couch. Then he tried thinking of anyone who had been killed and fixed on poor Ginger. She had been dead for over a year, I'd forgotten. Bobby was sure Ginger had screwed Eric—on that point, so was I—and he started comparing me with her. Then he compared himself. He'd felt this weird competition with Ginger, since they both wanted to fuck Eric and both managed parts of his business during the day. Then he thought about Eric on the couch again, shirtless in track pants.

I pulled out of his head before I got sucked back into another fantasy. It seemed pretty clear to me that Bobby wasn't the killer. He didn't even know what murders I had been talking about. "Maybe I heard wrong about the killings. There's so much going on with those vamps I can't keep it straight. Do you know what Eric does?"

That got Bobby's attention. "What?"

I tried to get into the role of whiny girlfriend. "You know him so much better than me. Do you know what his work is? He won't tell me anything."

"He runs the bar. I thought even you would figure that out," Bobby said, but he was thinking Eric had to be some sort of head vampire—maybe even the leader of vampires in Louisiana or the South. Bobby believed Fangtasia's tacky throne was a coded symbol of Eric's rank.

So Pam was right. Bobby had no real sense of the vampire power structure. I doubted that he could have told the murderer who Louisiana's Sheriffs were, even if he wanted to. I doubted he would want to. I might find Bobby mean and sad, but he was obviously loyal to Eric, maybe even to a fault. At the very least, Bobby's obsession with Eric wasn't helping his personal life. I wondered what they gay scene in Shreveport was like. Probably pretty grim. Would Claude hit on Bobby if I asked nicely? It was doubtful. Bobby's imaginary sexscapades with Eric chewed me up inside. I wasn't even jealous. They just made me sad. I felt like I should cut my losses and get out before he sucked me into another fantasy. "Thanks for the advice, Bobby." I stood up to go. "Maybe I'll see you around the bar tonight."

"Sure." Bobby looked me up and down. He wondered why Eric married me and what we had to talk about. Then he thought we mustn't do a lot of talking. Then he was back to the beginning, wondering why Eric tied the knot if I gave the milk for free. "Do you go by Mrs. Northman?"

"No. " Maybe someday I would, but I wasn't going to have a heart-to-heart with Bobby about it.

Bobby grunted. I gave him a little wave and hopped into the corvette.

----

Lunch with Alcide was next on the agenda.

I got to Denny's first. "I'm one, but I'm going to be two," I told the hostess. She offered to seat me, but I said no, and plopped down on a bench overlooking the parking lot. Bubba's old standards filled the air, piped in from the restaurant via outdoor speaker.

After five minutes, when it became clear Alcide wasn't showing up on time, I decided I wouldn't continue my pathetic wait for him without appearing busy, so I pulled out my cell phone. I opened my contacts. Alcee Beck was first, in case of police emergency, then Alcide three times, no thank you, then just the person I wanted to talk to: Amelia.

I pressed dial. To my delight, she picked up after a ring. "Sookie, how are you? Did you get the shudders?"

"Shudders?"

"Hadley's light-tight shudders? I sent them just after we talked, two days ago."

I'd forgotten. "Nope, but I haven't been back to Bon Temps."

"Where are you?"

"Shreveport," I said and Amelia laughed. "You hush."

"How's big and blond?"

"Same as always," I said. "Actually, no, he's good. We're really good."

"I'm glad to hear it. It's about time. You two have been dancing around so long—"

"What do you mean?"

"It's the yes and no dance: yes I wanna, no I don't, yes I like you, no I don't. If I didn't know you better, I'd think you craved drama."

"Amelia."

"Sorry, but you should see the two of you some days. I'm not saying go for it, but stop making breakfast with it."

"What?"

"Wafflling," she clarified.

"I'm not waffling. I just don't know what I want."

"Except that you're spending the night in Shreveport."

I laughed. "Well, I know what I want as far as that's concerned."

Amelia laughed too. "Sookie, you're cold."

"A girl's got the right to take what she wants," I said. "What about you? How are the bayou guys treating my favorite girl?"

"I'm still in the boxes stage of moving so there hasn't been much treating over here yet. I met a guy in Octavia's coven, but I'll tell you more once I know something."

"Sounds good," I said, as Alcide's pickup sped into the Denny's lot. I had to hurry this up before Mr. Late started expecting my full attention. "Listen, could you do me a favor?"

"Always. What's up?"

"There've been some murders in Bon Temps. One victim, Susan…" I grabbed the crime scene folder out of my purse and flipped through it to check Victor's girlfriend's last name, "Lefebvre, was based out of New Orleans and had connections to some pretty powerful vamps. I was wondering if you could check her out in the New Orleans archives, see if you could get me a next-of-kin listing or something. I'd like him or her a call."

Alicde jumped out of his pickup and he was looking pretty nice. He was wearing big state trooper sunglasses and his jeans clung to him like they were auditioning for the role of epidermis. "Sookie, have you ever tried google?" Amelia was saying to me.

I wiped the drool off my chin and tried to be a good friend. "I don't know what you're talking about, but it can't work as well as the library."

Amelia sighed. "How do you spell that girl's last name?"

"L-E-F-B as in boy-V as in vamp—"

"I hope not," Alcide said, plopping down next to me on the bench. He'd unbuttoned his shirt a notch too far and I could see his pecs. It was probably intentional, but I didn't care. I felt warm all over.

"R-E." I finished, resisting the urge to fan myself. "Amelia, I got to go. My lunch date just showed his sorry ass."

Alcide gave me a grin as Amelia sputtered into the phone. "Lunch date? I thought vamps couldn't come out for the day—"

I hung up. Sure, it was a hos before bros move, but that whole framework is sexist anyway and Alcide was looking really hot.

"Hi Sookie," he said. "You got married to Eric Northman?"

I couldn't help but smile. Alicide was talking about me with another man, but he said it like he was asking me out. I was grinning from the roots of my hair on down. "Let's get some lunch buffet and I'll tell you all about it."

----

Denny's lunch buffet served up row after row of glistening meats, coagulating sides, and squishy desserts that wiggled when you poked them. I loaded up a plate with fried chicken, lima beans and chocolate chess pie. After missing breakfast this morning I felt like I was eating for two, especially after the workout Eric gave me last night. As I walked back to the table I realized I should have put grocery shopping on Bobby's to-do list. If I started spending the night at Eric's, he'd have to at least stock cornflakes. I got him True Blood. It was only fair.

Alcide had given the hostess a really big smile when we came in and thus secured us the corner booth. He was already back from the buffet, tucking into a roast beef sandwich. I slid in across from him. Alcide looked at my plate. "Eric lets you eat like that?"

I gave Alcide a look. "Eric doesn't worry about food. And he doesn't _let_ me do anything."

Alcide took a bite of his roast beef sandwich. "So many of those fangbanger chicks you see look like toothpicks. "

I would enjoy my chicken, no matter what he said. I took a big bite of it, chewed, and swallowed. I felt good to talk without saying something I might regret. "Ok, Alcide."

"What?" Then he got it. "Aw, Sook, you aren't a fangbanger. That's not what I meant. When vamps," he pointed to his neck, "take, sometimes it takes a little too much out of the girl, know what I mean?"

I knew exactly what he meant, but I still didn't like his saying it. So many of the people hanging around Eric's bar—fat or skinny—had hollow eyes and waxy skin. "They're anemic and it's not just girls. When anyone loses blood they get sick."

"I'm sorry if I offended you. This is weird for me."

I didn't want to make it easy for him, especially after the fangbanger comments. "It's weird for me too, but I've been with Eric for a while."

"It's not Eric." Alcide sighed. "All right, it is kind of Eric, but it's mostly you being married." I took a sip of my tea so I wouldn't have to say anything. Alcide just watched me. "Despite everything that's happened between us, I always sort of hoped—" he trailed off.

"That we'd end up together?"

"Yes." Alcide shrugged. "Or that I'd have a real shot. You've always been there in the back of my head, Sookie, so sue me."

"Why are you telling me this?" It was a real question. I didn't know if Alcide was propositioning me or apologizing for the fangbanger comments in a roundabout way.

"I don't know. Trying to clear the air, I guess."

"You have a funny way of going about it."

"I never thought you and Eric were that serious." For that matter, neither did I, but considering all the connections in the supe world, I didn't think it would be a good idea to tell Alcide the full story behind my marriage. There was no way to tell what would get back to Felipe.

I chose my words carefully. "I would like to be your friend, Alcide, if that's possible."

"You will always be a friend of the pack."

"That isn't what I meant." Alcide looked down at his sandwich instead of looking at me. "Look at me. We were never together, and what I've done is no different than you moving on with another woman, which you've done. Don't give me this double standard crap."

He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "It's different because it's Eric Northman and it's different because you married him."

As soon as Alcide badmouthed Eric, the Debbie card crossed my mind, but I felt bad thinking it. The best thing I could do was play this cool. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Alcide."

"I'm just sorry you put yourself in this situation."

I stared at him. There were a thousand things I wanted to say and all of them were a prelude to a screaming match. "I didn't ask you to lunch today to talk about us."

Alcide leaned back in the booth. "So?"

"So, five women have been murdered over the past few weeks. All connected to vamps."

I thought Alcide was going to make a snide comment, but he deflated. His shoulders slumped. "God, Sookie, I'm sorry to hear that."

"They're from this area. Have you heard anything?"

He shook his head. "No. I didn't know. How old were they?"

"My age or younger, all linked to vamps. Two of them were with Sheriffs. I think whoever's behind it must have some knowledge of how the vampires have set themselves up. It could be a coincidence, but—"

Alcide cut me off. "Sookie, with all the press you and Eric have been getting, have you taken precautions?"

"I'm fine, Alcide."

"Let me send someone to watch you."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself. I'm with Eric mostly, and if not Eric, then Sam."

"What about during the day?"

As nice as a little extra muscle might be, I didn't want a strange were following me around, especially after what happened to Dawson. I couldn't live with myself if another person got killed trying to protect me. "It's generous of you, but I have it covered. Can you think of any information that might help? Anything at all?"

Alcide shook his head. "Most weres know who the big vamps are, but it's not one of us. No one in my pack would touch a woman the wrong way." I thought Alcide was overestimating the goodness of the people he ran with, but I didn't say anything at the risk of starting another fight. From the fuzzy reading I could get from his head, I knew he believed what was telling me. "If someone in the pack was involved, I'd be able to smell it. A kill doesn't wash off easy."

I shivered. I hated it when supes talked like that. Sooner or later, all of them did.

"If something happened to you, I couldn't forgive myself," Alcide said.

I sighed. "Thanks, but it's not your responsibility."

----

After that, we inhaled our food, peppering the silence between bites with dribs and drabs of small talk. Both of us wanted out of Denny's stat. I let Alcide pick up the check, made a couple disingenuous good to see you comments, and split for the parking lot. Alcide walked me out.

"Eric's car?" he said, when I headed for the corvette.

"I was in a car crash. Mine got totaled." Alcide followed me across the lot. I guess he was walking me to my car.

"Nice vanity plate." He said when we got there, raising his eyebrows at BLDSKR.

We looked at each other, and for some reason, both started laughing. "I'm working on him," I said. "Look, Alcide, I don't want to part on bad terms."

"Me neither. I'm sorry for what I said in there. If it's any consolation, it's only because I care about you."

"That makes it worse."

"I guess so." He gave me a half-smile.

"For what it's worth, I forgive you." I sighed. "And I'm sorry you had to find out about the wedding from the papers. We didn't see that coming ourselves."

"Water under the bridge." He opened the corvette door for me. I got in and put on my seatbelt. Alcide leaned over on the window. "Safety first, that's good."

I figured he was prolonging the goodbye as a way of erasing what had happened inside the restaurant. I didn't begrudge him. I'd be happy wiping it out too. "I've got to get my safety points where I can."

"You're a danger-magnet, Sookie."

"You're telling me?"

Alcide laughed. "Fair enough." He clapped the corvette on the hood. "Okay, I guess I'll be seeing you."

"Sure. Thanks for lunch." With that I started the engine and headed out of the lot. I watched Alcide in the rearview window. He stuck his hands in pockets and stared after me. As I made the right turn out of the lot, he waved. I felt kind of sad, until I though of a way to solve one of the day's earlier problems. With one hand on the wheel, I dug up my phone, opened my contacts and scrolled down to the Cs.

"Hooligans Strip Club. We provide the man in demand."

I rolled my eyes. "Claude, is that you?"

"Who is this?"

"Sookie." In case he was going to be really antisocial, I added, "your cousin."

Claude chose to stay on this side of the wall when Niall and the rest of the fairies sealed themselves off. He'd come to my house a few days after Claudine's death. I'd made some tea and we'd sat in silence. When Claude left, he'd given me a big hug. It was the first time he'd shown me any physical affection. Then I'd started crying and he'd dropped me and left without even getting me a Kleenex. Claude's exit aside, the hug had been nice. More than that, it had been good to have someone to grieve with. Claudine hadn't had a funeral, at least on this side of the divide. I wasn't sure how fairies mourned their dead, but I wanted some concentrated time to remember her. My afternoon with Claude had gone some ways towards that.

"Listen, Claude, I need a favor."

"No," he said, and hung up on me.

I called back. After about ten rings, he picked up, "What?"

"I want to set you up on a date."

That got his attention. "Tell me more."

"His name is Bobby. He's a really nice friend of Eric's—"

Claude interrupted me. "Sookie, am I the only gay person you know?"

He was, not counting Lafayette, which I didn't, because he was dead. "This feels like a trick question."

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I will like your friend," Claude said and hung up again.

It was a fair point. I was pretty sure that Claude would not like Bobby, since Bobby didn't have high-fashion male model looks, let alone mail-order catalog male model looks. However Bobby was such a textbook case of needing to get out more, I felt like I had to do my part. My phone started ringing. It was Claude.

"Tell him to meet me tonight, 8:30, at that French place off I-20."

"That bistro in Bossier City?"

"Whatever," Claude said and hung up.

I rolled my eyes and dug Bobby's number out of my recent calls.

He picked up after one ring. "What is it?"

"Hi Bobby, it's Sookie Stackhouse."

"I know."

I grit my teeth. Bobby was such a pain. Maybe he and Claude were more compatible than I thought. If you went by manners, they were practically soul mates. I put on my best ditsy voice. "Look, Eric asked me to tell you this and I forgot. He's thinking about buying a bar and wants you to meet the owner, test him out, see if he's honest, that sort of thing. But don't tell him Eric's interested in buying. And go to the bar, if you can, see if it's worth Eric's money. And be friendly. Eric wants a man on the inside."

Bobby sounded thrilled at all the responsibility. "Where do I go?"

"He'll be waiting for you at that French bistro in Bossier City off I-20, 8:30 tonight. His name is Claude Crane. He has dark hair, he's about six-two." I trailed off before I started listing Claude's measurements. "Be nice. Eric wants you to wear him down."

"Message received," Bobby said and hung up. I stared at my phone. Who ended a call with "message received"? This wasn't Star Trek.

I called Claude back. "Don't mention you know me," I said, when he answered.

"Why?"

"It's a long story, just don't say anything."

"That won't be difficult," Claude said. "I never talk about you unless I'm talking to you."

"Great," I said and hung up. I tossed my phone in my bag and sighed. I'd done my part for humanity.

When I got back to Eric's, I kicked off my shoes, pulled off my dress and crawled into bed with him. His dead body still creeped me out, even after my good-faith spooning earlier in the morning. I pushed him to the other side of the bed, as far as my strength would allow, and hollowed a little solitary nook for myself as close to edge of the mattress as I could get without falling off. Then I rolled over so I didn't have to look at him. It was about two-thirty. He'd be awake soon enough.

I drifted off to sleep. Just before five, my phone woke me. It was Amelia, so I grabbed it. "What was the mysterious lunch date?"

"Alcide," I said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It went that well?"

"You don't sound surprised."

"Really? Why would a date with your ex go poorly?" Amelia had sarcasm down to an art.

"We never dated."

"Just like Pam and I never dated, come on Sookie." I rolled my eyes. "Look, I stopped by the archives, like you asked, and you'll want to hear this."

"Shoot, I'm listening." Behind me, Eric stirred. I glanced over at him, but his eyes were still closed.

"Susan Lefebvre has a brother in New Orleans, and I'll give you his number if you want, but he's not her legal next-of-kin."

"Ok, spit it out." Eric's arm snaked around my waist and he yanked me to him.

He kissed my neck. "Lover."

I waved a hand at him. "Shush."

"What was that?" Amelia asked.

"Nothing," I lied. "I'm driving." Eric pushed me under him and trailed his hands up my sides.

"I thought I heard Eric." Always excited by the sound of his own name, Eric gave me a smirk and reached between my legs.

"Nope," I gasped. "Why would you say that? Going home to meet him—he'll be up soon."

"Yeah, it's sunset here already."

I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to carry on a conversation, especially if Eric kept doing what he was doing. "So what did you find out about Susan?" I put my hand over the mouthpiece and leaned up to kiss Eric. He nipped at my bottom lip and his fangs ran out with a click.

"Susan Lefebvre was twenty-three, brother Jim in New Orleans, uncle in Monroe—"

"She worked for the uncle," I said as Eric kissed his way down my neck. I wrapped my legs around his waist and ground up against him. Eric smirked at me. He pointed at the phone and drew a finger across his neck. _I'm trying_, I mouthed at him.

"Right, since Katrina," Amelia said. "But as far as the next-of-kin, you'll want to call her husband."

That was a surprise. "Husband?"

"The marriage license was in the archives."

"And? Where's the husband based? I wonder if he knew about Victor."

"I would say so. Two months before she died, Susan Lefebvre married Victor Madden."

I dropped the phone. Eric, always quicker than me, snatched it out of the covers.

"Victor Madden, you are sure?" He paused. "Yes, I am here, Amelia." Another pause. "Sookie would not want me to say." I rolled my eyes as he listened to Amelia some more. "Are you busy tonight?" A beat. "Good. We'll be there around midnight. I imagine she will want to see you." Another beat. "Not with the way I drive." He closed my phone.

"What's the story?"

"Get up, lover. We're going to New Orleans."

----

_A/N: Belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO. Thank you for reading and for the reviews! _

_Up next, Eric and Sookie head to the big easy, where things are anything but._


	12. Thursday Night

Eric hustled me out of bed without sex, so I knew he was rattled. He also told me so.

"I don't understand. Why would Victor Madden marry that human?" Eric stood inside his closet, searching for something to wear. I had slipped back into my sundress and was sitting on the edge of Eric's bed. I hoped that we weren't going to stay in New Orleans overnight. I was out of clean clothes.

"Maybe he loved her."

"No." Eric called from inside the closet.

"Why not?"

"Because Victor is a vampire." Eric emerged, impeccable in black. It didn't matter what he wore. Eric was one of those people who looked better than good whatever he put on. He glanced at himself in the mirror and ran a comb through his hair.

"You're a vampire." It felt catty saying it, but I was sick of vampires using their condition as an excuse for emotional unavailability and antisocial behavior. I knew they dealt with different circumstances from the rest of us, but way back when, they had been part of "the rest of us." Emotions couldn't be so foreign to them. After all we had been through, Eric had to know that I knew he had feelings for me. The blood bond alone was a constant reminder. Right now, it was buzzing with Eric's annoyance. I didn't care. The "vampire" card was old in my book.

Eric gave me an exasperated look, then turned back to the mirror. "You and I are different than Victor and his woman."

"How so?" I was going to say something about the phrase 'his woman' but decided against it. I was about to spend six hours trapped in a car with Eric. I didn't want to spend them fighting.

Eric shrugged, dismissing my question. "We are different people." He put the comb down and turned to me. "Why do you want verbal assurances?"

"When you say Victor couldn't have feelings for that woman because he was a vampire, you're implying something."

Eric looked grim. "Do you want to talk about Victor or about us?"

"Eric, don't give me that face. Tell me about Victor. I'm not going in there blind. Afterwards we can talk about us, or not. Frankly, I'm talked out."

"I never said he couldn't have feelings for her. " Eric picked his keys off the dresser. "Are you ready?"

I looked down at my dress. "This is all I've got."

"Then let's continue in the car." Eric pulled me to my feet. "New Orleans isn't getting any closer."

I had to walk double-time to keep up with Eric as he plowed through the house and out the storage room to where I'd parked the corvette. He talked as he went. "You said Victor first?"

"Order doesn't matter. Stop evading."

"Victor would not have married that woman just because he cared for her. It would have been counterproductive. He would have put her in danger because of their connection." Eric opened the passenger door to the corvette and pushed me inside. When he slid into the drivers' side and started the engine, his fangs were out. "Your insistence on comparing us to them is ridiculous. Our situation is different. I married you to protect you."

"How can you say it's ridiculous if you don't know anything about Victor's relationship with this woman?"

"I know enough about humans and vampires."

I remembered that conversation. "The happy meal?"

"Blood and sex," Eric said, as if it was QED.

"You can't generalize, Eric. With us, it's more than food service or immediate satisfaction."

"Yes," he said, eyes glued to the road.

"If we care about each other, who knows about Victor and that woman?"

"What are you trying to prove?"

Eric's question took me aback. "Nothing."

"You hate Victor Madden. You accept the possibility that he may want to kill you. Why do you insist that he has feelings for a human woman? Are you so distrustful of me?" Eric cleared his throat. "I care about you, if that's what you need to hear."

I didn't 'need' to hear anything. I was a little offended by Eric's grudging declaration, even though I didn't doubt he believed what he was saying. My fear with Eric, as it always had been, was that we had different definitions of 'care.' How far would his love extend when he himself was in danger? Would he think to place our relationship over the political games and backstabbing he enjoyed so much? In all my time with him, Eric had never made a choice that jeopardized his power and position.

Except maybe rescuing me from the fairies. That was something to think about.

Eric must have felt my discomfort, because he kept talking. "I like having you near me, even though there are obstacles to a permanent partnership."

The word 'permanent' stuck in my head. "You mean that I am going to die?" Eric kept his eyes on the road but I knew he heard me. "Nothing is permanent. You're going to die too, Eric."

"In all likelihood, your final death will come sooner than mine." He was quiet for a second, but I could tell he wanted to say something. I could feel him gearing up through the bond. "I would turn you, if you asked."

I shivered. Did Eric believe that his turning me would be the cure for our problems? I never wanted to be a vampire, and even if it happened, I couldn't let Eric be my maker. Our relationship was rocky enough already without him having total control over me. "I don't think I should have to give myself up to be with you."

"You would be yourself, just more."

"No thanks. You know my terms, Eric. I'm giving up a lot to consider being with you. I wanted kids, but whether I have them or not, I want a family and a partner. If you won't commit, or if you keep me around out some sort of possessiveness, let me know now so I can move on and make a life for myself."

Eric zipped past a speed sign, a good twenty over the limit. "I hate feeling this way about you. It doesn't make any sense to me."

"Thanks." He sure knew how to make me feel appreciated.

Oblivious or uncaring, he continued to unload, his face grim. "I don't know why I'm encouraging this. I am going to get us both killed."

Eric had never said anything like that before and I felt something like honest fear through the bond. I was shaken. When Eric got upset, he got angry. I had never known him to be afraid, even the night he rescued me from the fairies. Eric had been angry at what they'd done to me, upset he hadn't come sooner, hyped up for battle, but not scared. As if he was following my thoughts to that night, and considering the bond, maybe he was, Eric said, "You're killing me."

"You made choices too." It wasn't fair for him to blame me for his fear. Or to resent me because he cared about me, or whatever it was going on in his head. But I didn't want to fight and I didn't want to talk to him anymore, so I took the easy way out. I looked out the window.

----

We drove in silence for another half hour, until Amelia called my cell to figure out what was going on.

"Eric asked if I was free," she said when I picked up. "I want to know what I'm free for."

"We're seeing Victor Madden, I think," I said. Eyes glued to the road, Eric nodded. Apparently, verbal communication still too much to handle. Eric held out his hand for the phone. I ignored him. "Do you want to meet us?"

"I'm not going to see the vampires," Amelia said, the same time as Eric said, "I would not recommend she join us."

"Fine," I said to both of them.

"I would like her to watch my corvette," Eric said.

I looked at him. "Seriously?"

He held out his hand for the phone.

"Would you car sit for Eric?" I asked Amelia.

"Will he pay me?" she said, like any sensible person.

"She wants to know—"

"I can hear her," Eric said. "May I speak to her?"

I stared at him. He stared back at me. Eric gestured for the phone, like I was some kind of underling. I was so angry at him I could spit. I considered throwing my cell out the window, but that didn't seem fair to Amelia and I couldn't afford a new one.

"What's going on?" Amelia asked.

Moving so quickly his hand was a blur, Eric snatched the phone. "Amelia, we will be parking a block or two north of the quarter. I would like you to stay with the car in case Sookie needs a getaway to meet her."

Of course Eric wouldn't need a car. He could fly. Or maybe he was thinking that he would be detained. Mad as I was at him, I didn't want to consider a situation where we wouldn't be leaving together.

I heard Amelia talking, but I wasn't able to understand her. "Sookie will call you as we get closer to the city," Eric said. He flipped the phone shut and tossed it to me. I caught it.

"Thank you for arranging for the car," I said, "but I don't see why it would have been so hard to tell me your reasons for wanting it in the first place. And I don't want to leave New Orleans without you." My voice broke. Surprised, I wiped my hand over my eyes. I hadn't realized I was this hyped-up.

"I'm sorry you are upset." Eric looked uncomfortable. "I am sorry I'm angry. It's not at you. " He paused. "Do you want to know what I think?"

I was so used to having thoughts bombard me it was nice to be invited in, especially by Eric, who was for the most part a non-sharer. "Sure."

Eric looked grim. "I think Victor married and killed that woman so I would bring you to him. I think he murdered all those women. I want to leave you safe in Shreveport and go by myself, but I cannot read minds."

I swallowed. It was a fair hypothesis. "And he would find another way to get to me. So what do we do?"

"We be careful," Eric said. "Do you want to go back to Shreveport?"

"No." If we turned around, we'd have to wait for Victor to come to me. "I'm sick of playing defense."

"Good." Eric switched lanes and cut off the car speeding next to us. The poor driver honked. Eric laughed and rolled down his window.

There was nothing like old-fashioned road rage to make a bad situation taste sweeter.

----

Eric drove so fast, we made it to New Orleans just before midnight. After some phone coordination, Amelia met us on Canal Street, the dividing line between the French Quarter and the business district. I only had time to give her a hug and exchange how are yous before Eric tossed her the keys and told her we'd be back before dawn.

"Be ready to move," he told Amelia. "If Sookie texts you, I want you to meet her."

Amelia was miffed at Eric's abrupt turn to business. She thought this was the most he'd ever spoken to her, which was probably true. "Fine, but I'm not a chauffer."

I was temped to step in, but this was between Amelia and Eric. On the pretense of wrapping my arm around his waist, I gave him a little nudge. It was one of the few times I wished Eric could read my mind, but he seemed to get my meaning anyway. He needed to make peace. "Amelia, if we have to leave in a hurry, I can, but Sookie can't. I need backup."

"I get it," she said, leaning against the corvette. "Happy to do it." Amelia wasn't going to make this easy for him.

Eric cleared his throat. "Thank you."

The thanks did the trick. Amelia didn't exactly smile, but her mouth kind of twitched upwards and she gave him a nod. She unlocked the front door to the corvette and got in. "I'm playing the radio," she said.

Eric tapped the roof. "Don't change my settings."

I leaned in the window and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Amelia. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"If I have to be your getaway car, you'll be happy to know I've gotten five speeding tickets."

Happy was the opposite of what that information made me. I had let her drive my Malibu. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Amelia smiled. "I know how to drive fast."

After we left the corvette, Eric steered me north of Canal into the financial district. Right after the Revelation, Sophie-Anne bought a compound tucked in the cluster of office towers housing New Orleans's banks and prominent businesses. It was one of the most popular stops on New Orleans city tours. Visitor maps dubbed it "Vampire Headquarters" and marked the spot with an icon of a skyscraper sprouting bloody fangs. After the takeover, Victor moved in without disturbing Sophie-Anne's setup. Most humans weren't aware that the vampires occupying "Headquarters" had changed

Just before the coup, Sophie-Anne convinced the city council to declare the block surrounding her compound pedestrian only. It was ringed with steel bollards, a new addition since I'd been here last.

"Car bombs," Eric said, when he saw me eyeing a bollard.

"Isn't that a little paranoid?"

Eric did one of his favorite things, answering my question with a question. "Would you rather be paranoid or dead?"

As in the days of Sophie-Anne, tourists thronged the front gates of the compound, snapping photos and hoping to catch a glimpse of a vampire. Vendors wandered among them, hawking everything from Coronita-sized bottles of True Blood to postcards with famous vampires posing at Jackson Square. I saw a set featuring the Count from Sesame Street.

One of the vendors approached us, a box of plastic fangs hanging around his neck. "A pair for the lady?" he said, offering one to Eric. He had an accent and was thinking in another language. I guessed it was Spanish, but I wasn't sure.

"No thanks," I said.

"Five dollars?" the vendor persisted. "These are nice fangs."

With a click, Eric's real fangs came down. "We got it covered."

To my surprise, the vendor grinned. Spanish flooded my head. He was a strong broadcaster, but I still couldn't understand what he was saying. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be crazy, to have a head full of unintelligible voices. I decided then and there I'd never be able to travel overseas.

"A set to match?" the man said, smelling a business opportunity. He waved the plastic fangs in my face.

I was shocked and a little disoriented from all the Spanish. Eric, on the other hand, ignored him. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away, towards the crowd of tourists gathered around the compound's gate. "Did you hear him?" I asked, as we hurried away.

"You won't need to buy fangs," Eric said. I shuddered.

Eric pushed past a teenage girl snapping pictures of Victor's front door. She wore a black T-shirt with an exaggerated set of bleeding fang-marks screen-printed on the front. I WENT TO NEW ORLEANS AND ALL I GOT WERE THESE NASTY BITES it read.

Victor had kept Sophie-Anne's SWAT team guards on staff. There were ten or so arrayed around the compound. Two stood at the front gate, watching the tourists. I looked over the SWAT for my sort-of friends, Rasul and Melanie, but they either weren't on duty tonight or they had been replaced in the coup. I hoped they were all right.

Eric marched up to one of the SWAT guards standing in the front. I followed a few steps behind in case things got ugly. The tourists were starting to give us curious looks. Someone caught my arm. I turned around to see a man, about my age, wearing a tour bus uniform. He had to be either a guide or a driver, which meant he was local. His nametag read Sam, which warmed my heart a little.

"Your man will want to back off there miss," he said. "Vamps don't take kindly to being interrupted."

I was amazed how often people couldn't tell a vampire by sight. "It's okay," I said, giving Sam a big—and hopefully reassuring—smile. "My man's a vamp." I shrugged his hand off my arm and ran to catch up with Eric, who was deep in conversation with the guard.

"He's not expecting me." Eric was saying, when I arrived at his side. He put his arm around my shoulder. "Tell him I'm here with my wife, Sookie Stackhouse."

The vampire guard stared at me like I had two heads. "Wife," he repeated, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"We're here to congratulate Mr. Madden on his recent marriage," I said, feeling daring. I probably would have been better off leaving the talking to Eric, but I was scared shitless and wanted to go in on the offensive.

If the guard knew what I was talking about, he didn't give a sign. He pushed open the gate. "Your escort will meet you at the door."

As soon as we stepped into Victor's compound, the guard locked the gate behind us. The tourists cooed and snapped a few photographs. "No one ever goes in," a girl exclaimed behind me.

"I just hope we get out," I whispered to Eric. I grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.

----

Our escort turned out to be Victor himself. I didn't know if that was a good sign or a very, very bad one.

"We're going to the holding room," he said, instead of hello. 'Holding room' sounded like some kind of bureaucratic euphemism for dungeon. I looked over to Eric, but he was too busy giving Victor the macho eye to protest.

I opted for inquisitive over confrontational. "What's in the holding room?" If Victor's answer was something along the lines of 'handcuffs for you,' I'd rather be out the door, trying my luck with the vampire SWAT team.

It was then I realized how screwed we were. I knew Eric always had a lot up his sleeve, but we'd basically walked into the lion's den with only Amelia as our backup. No offense to her, but I'd rather have Pam or Felicia, or better yet, all three of them. For the first time ever, I wished Eric had something he wasn't telling me. Was he really this cocky? Or was I overestimating the danger?

"There's a human I want you to read," Victor said, turning on his heel and beckoning us down a dark hallway. There were no lights. I wouldn't be able to see a thing. "Come."

Eric held out his hand for me. "Come," he echoed.

I took Eric's hand and shivering, followed them into the darkness. I hoped there weren't stairs. The similarity to Bill's house seemed inauspicious. I could see Eric, a dark form, next to me, but I could barely make out Victor's shoulders a few paces ahead. "Who's the human?" I asked, in the direction of what I hoped was Victor's back.

"Jim Lefebvre," Victor said, "my former day man."

The name was familiar. "Jim Lefebvre, as in Susan Lefebvre's brother?" If Jim was Victor's day man, that explained how he had met a girl as seemingly normal as Susan.

"That's right," Victor said.

"Why didn't you tell us you married her?" If Victor had really wanted me to investigate the case, that should have been the first thing out of his mouth.

Victor didn't say anything. Maybe selective hearing was a general vampire problem in addition to being Eric's weapon-of-choice.

Victor stopped and tapped something on the wall. When it lit up, I realized it was an elevator button. The wall in front of us dinged and slid open, revealing an elevator car. It was normal-looking and, thank god, well-lit. As we stepped inside, I noticed that the numbers extended from 1 to 10 and then, below ground, from B to B4. Victor punched B4. That didn't seem good.

I squeezed Eric's hand.

Victor noticed and smiled in a way that showed more teeth than was necessary. "I hope you're not claustrophobic, Miss Stackhouse."

"I'm fine as long as I know where the exits are."

Victor laughed. When he stopped, a tense silence fell over our little elevator car until it dinged open on B4.

B4 was lit, unlike the hallway on the main floor. There was one door about ten feet away, which I assumed was the famous 'Holding Room.' A tall, imposing vampire stood guard outside.

I crossed my arms and looked at Victor. "Well?"

"Well what?" He held the elevator door open and gestured for me go first.

"One second," I said. "If I'm getting out of this elevator, we're going to have to agree on a few things." The bargaining was coming a little late, considering we were basically trapped in Victor's house, but it was better than never.

Victor ignored me. "Eric, I don't have time for this."

Eric, god bless him, just shrugged. "She speaks for me."

I was surprised and touched at his support. I hoped I wasn't digging our graves. "I'm not going to walk into your dungeon without some assurances," I said to Victor. I cast around the floor. To my surprise, the only minds were the vampire guard—now staring at our elevator with some interest—and a human inside the room, who I assumed to be Jim Lefebvre. Maybe Victor was telling the truth. I pointed at the guard. "He needs to go. It's just you, me, Eric, and the prisoner."

Victor's eyes flashed. "Ridiculous. How do I know you won't kill me?" He nodded to Eric. "He's older than I am."

"Why would we kill you?"

"What happened to Sophie-Anne's Andre?" Victor sneered. "Or Charles Flanagan? Or the fairies you disobeyed us to fight?" he gestured to Eric. "What happens to those who cross you?"

Apparently paranoia about me wasn't confined to Felicia. Victor's mention of Andre made me afraid of the rumors circling behind my back. Not even Eric knew the full story on that one. I wondered what Victor meant about Eric disobeying him with the fairies, but decided now wasn't the time to seek clarification. "These are my terms, Victor. If Eric and I get out, Igor over there goes up." I pointed to the guard. "I don't want you locking me up with Jim."

"Think about it Victor," Eric said. "If we kill you, we'll never get out alive. Even if we escaped, Felipe wouldn't let me live."

"He'd let her live," Victor said, surprising me, "and I'd still be dead." But even with the protests, Victor motioned at the guard and pointed him to the elevator. Watching us with interest, the guard walked to the elevator threshold.

The four of us stared at each other.

"Who gets out first?" The guard broke the silence.

I almost laughed. It was a little ridiculous. "How about the same time?" I said.

We did a strange little side-step, almost a dosie-doe, and the guard was inside the elevator and I was out of it. Eric regarded me with a smile. He almost looked proud. He stepped out. "Victor?"

Looking pained, Victor followed. "Wait for me on B3," he said to the guard, as the door slid shut.

We stood in silence for a second. I was half-waiting for somebody to attack. When nobody moved, I sighed with relief. Both of the non-breathers looked at me in surprise. I laughed. It seemed, as far as I could tell now, that Victor was telling the truth—that he really wanted me to read Jim Lefebvre. Why else would he put himself at such a disadvantage?

"What do you want to know from Jim?"

"Look into his head," Victor said.

"It helps if I know what to look for."

"I want to know if he killed Susan."

I took the bull by the horns. "So you didn't kill her?"

Victor's fangs flashed. "Never."

Victor's vehemence surprised me, but I tried to play it cool. "If you wanted me to read Jim, why didn't you bring him to Fangtasia the other night?"

Victor's eyes flickered to Eric. "There are certain liabilities when it comes to sensitive information—"

"Speak English," I snapped.

"Felipe doesn't know you married her," Eric decoded.

The look of Victor's face confirmed it. I was flabbergasted. "But it's in the public archives."

Both Eric and Victor looked at me like I was crazy. "_Human_ archives," Eric said at the same time as Victor scowled, "What is she talking about?"

I was shocked. Yes, I had never seen vampires in the library and I had trouble imagining either Eric or Victor signing up for a card. It even might be argued that libraries often closed at five, right as the sun went down and opened long after dawn, but their disregard was a little ridiculous. "The archives are a building where public records are kept, and marriage qualifies as a public record, so your secret isn't so secret."

"A building can burn." Victor pulled out his cell, probably to text his pet arsonist.

I fought the urge to grab the phone out of his hand. Having greater New Orleans loose its archives because of my big mouth was a blot I didn't want on my record. "Couldn't the license disappear? I'll take care of it myself."

Victor regarded me. "Tonight?"

"Tomorrow," I countered. "Archives open during the day."

Victor nodded and snapped his phone closed. I relaxed and it actually seemed like Victor loosened up a little too. It was less about the archives and more that we'd reached an agreement.

Eric took advantage of the détente. "Why did you marry her?" he asked, echoing the question he'd thrown at me hours earlier. I figured he had wanted to turn that on Victor from the moment we'd heard about the wedding.

Victor looked about ready to laugh. "You are the last two people—" he trailed off.

"Right now, we're the only people," I said. "Do you want me to read Jim or not?"

"Susan and I—" Victor stopped again. Finally, after a visible struggle, he settled on, "I sold you out to protect us."

That wasn't what I had expected. "What do you mean?"

"You told the press about us," Eric said, a step ahead of me.

Victor nodded.

"Start at the beginning," Eric commanded.

To my surprise, Victor acquiesced. It seemed like the fight had gone out of him. "After the takeover, I hired Jim Lefebvre as my day man. I told him if he continued to be useful after five years of service, I would turn him."

I gaped at Victor. "This is common practice," Eric said to me.

"At least the promise," Victor piggybacked. "Humans will do anything if you give them a carrot."

I imagined doughy Bobby as pale and strong as Eric. "Bobby—"

"Has no such arrangement," Eric cut me off, his tone forbidding any more questions.

"I met Jim's sister when he reported to me," Victor said. "She was intriguing." If it ended with wedding bells, Susan Lefebvre seemed like she had been great deal more than 'intriguing,' but I wasn't about to parse Victor's words. "I pursued her. It wasn't difficult. After a few nights, she agreed to stay with me at the compound. I visited her in Area 5, when she worked." His fangs had come down, but he hardly seemed aware of it.

"Which explains your breathing down my neck this fall," Eric said.

"No, that was me not trusting you," Victor said. "But I combined business with pleasure."

The wedding still didn't make sense to me. "So why marriage?"

Victor shrugged. "She wanted to. The humans had just passed their law. She was religious and wouldn't—" he trailed off, but his meaning was clear enough. I couldn't believe that the kind of woman who fell for a vampire was the same type of woman saving it for marriage, but who was I to presuppose all fangbangers were created equal? I didn't fit the mold of the 'typical' vampire groupie either.

"Why didn't you glamour her?" Eric asked. I rolled my eyes. Of course Eric would propose glamour as a solution.

"Why don't you glamour her?" Victor gestured at me. Eric didn't say anything. It didn't escape my notice that he didn't own up and say he couldn't. "I wanted her to choose," he said. "And what does a human wedding matter to me? It was a piece of paper. I was very fond of her. I always intended to turn her."

"Why did you wait?" Eric seemed genuinely interested, which sent a chill up my spine.

Victor looked me up and down. Eric followed his gaze. "I ask myself that often."

"So you married her?" I prompted Victor, to get us back on track.

"I glamoured the justice afterwards," he said. "No one knew but us, but somehow Jim found out before she died. He tried to blackmail me into turning him. He threatened to call a politician and get me run out of New Orleans. I glamoured him, but he must have found out again. Maybe she told him."

"You think Jim killed her?" Victor obviously did. Why else would he be holding Jim prisoner? But I wanted hear the full story from him.

"Susan died the night the Governor's challenger made the announcement about a vampire-human marriage. I was with Felipe at the time, watching the speech. Felipe has been paying more attention to human politics recently, he wants to garner some tax incentives, glamour a few state employees, you know the drill."

I most certainly did not know the drill and the thought of vampires glamouring government employees was enough to make me pause, but Victor pressed on ahead before I could comment. "Felipe was convinced the politician meant the two of you, but I knew better. It was too close to Jim's threat. As soon as I could get away from Felipe, I went to Susan's."

He stopped, so Eric prompted him. "And?"

"She was already dead. The human police were there. I glamoured them into forgetting the murder. Then I called the Governor's office and gave them the information about your marriage. I told him Felipe and I disapproved, thought it best vampires and humans kept separate. I couldn't risk Felipe, or anyone else, finding out I had married a human. We're still in transition. No one has ever run three states. Our situation is precarious enough among the humans and the vampires."

I couldn't believe Victor was telling us all this, but he seemed to have given up. The words kept pouring out of him. In a strange way, it made me almost trust him. Victor nodded to Eric. "Then I called you. I'd taken the police off the case and your human was the best we had. I had to find out who killed Susan."

"So how did you get Jim?"

Victor's smile sent a chill up my spine. His fangs poked over his lips: little white points. "Jim showed up to work the next night, like nothing happened. He hasn't left since."

----

"Jim, my name is Sookie Stackhouse."

Jim barely looked like a person anymore. One of his eyes was blacked shut and the other was close behind, encrusted with some brownish residue that might have been blood. His throat was covered with a constellation of fang marks. Jim opened his mouth and moaned something that might have been a word. If it wasn't for his thoughts, I would have never understood.

"Do you have water?" Victor stood in the doorway, arms crossed. Eric towered behind him.

Victor sneered. "No, but I could use a drink." I shuddered. Jim looked like he was just about wrung dry. Some of the marks on his neck had become greenish, blackish scabs, but his skin looked translucent underneath. I glanced at Eric. I wanted him to do something, but he of course didn't. He met my gaze and gave me this look I couldn't decode.

"Get on with it," Victor said.

"Jim, I'm here to talk about the night your sister died." Jim groaned and images flashed from his mind to mine—a woman lying in a puddle of blood, then the woman alive, laughing, maybe taunting him, then Victor on his knees in front of the corpse, biting open his wrist, pressing it to her lips. I spun around to look at Victor. I couldn't help it. He had tried to turn her, too late. He hadn't told us that.

"What?" Victor said.

"Nothing," I lied. Now, I knew that Jim had been at his sister's home the night of the murder and had watched most of the events, probably without Victor's knowledge. I grabbed Jim's wrist. "Who killed your sister?"

Jim groaned again and tried to jerk away, but I was stronger than I looked, thanks to Eric's blood. His thoughts flashed in front of me—first the murder—I was watching through Jim's eyes, so it was if I was swinging the bat myself, then he backtracked, looking for the bat, finding it in the hall closet, then forward in time, staring at the body while his heart beat in his ears—looking for the phone, smearing blood on the white plastic earpiece, dialing the police.

I let go of Jim's wrist, but I couldn't pull out of his head.

Jim jumped even further back, to earlier that evening. A blonde woman, who I now knew to be Susan, leaned over the stove. Jim noticed the diamond around her neck, diamond on her finger, bite marks on her throat. Susan turned to him, laughing, he didn't remember the words, but it was something about Victor. Then she said something Jim remembered clearly: _He's going to turn me._ Jim got up to find the bat.

"What about Fangtasia?" I asked. "The others?" I couldn't remember their names and it made me feel guilty. "Gervaise's girlfriend? The waitresses?"

Jim thought about the flash of Susan's diamonds. He licked his lips. They were cracked from lack of water. "I'm not telling you anything."

"The waitresses," I repeated. I grabbed his wrist again. "The dumpster behind Fangtasia?"

_What's she talking about crazy bitch let go of my arm—_

I stood up. "He did it. He killed her." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I knew I was condemning Jim to death. I should have bargained with Victor to send Jim to the police, but I knew he would never have agreed, with his feelings for Susan and the threat of the marriage being revealed. I felt that maybe I should step back and let vampires employ their own brand of justice. It was better than what Jim had given Susan. He had beaten his own sister to death in cold blood out of some sick jealousy. I didn't believe in an eye for an eye, but at least Victor's cruelty had some rationale. Jim hadn't given Susan a chance.

Even as I justified it to myself, my stomach twisted as I watched Victor launch himself on Jim. He moved in a blur and he was on Jim before I could blink. I turned and ran out the room. Although Jim had killed Susan, I didn't think he had touched the other women. When it came to the other murders, he hadn't had have any idea what I was talking about.

Eric shut the door behind me. His fangs were out. Fear flooded me. Eric must have felt it through the bond. "It's the smell of the blood," he said. "I'm sorry. It's a reflex."

For some reason, the moment made me feel like I did when I woke up next to Eric's corpse. This was what he was. I felt vulnerable and resigned and uncomfortable and tender all at once. "Don't apologize for what you are," I said. "Eric, I want you to know that just because I don't want you to turn me, it doesn't mean I don't want you. I do want you, I—" I couldn't finish because I couldn't find words to fit to my feelings.

He wrapped his hand in my hair and pulled me to his chest. "Sookie, I will not turn you. But don't blame me for wishing it."

"It's a lack of respect," I said. "If you turned me, you would own me."

"It's not about owning," he said. "I can't lose you."

"You have me." I breathed deep, smelling him, willing myself to trust him. I could tell he believed what he was saying. Why wasn't that enough?

----

We left before Victor finished with Jim and tracked down Amelia. The three of us holed up in a 24-hour diner. A thunderstorm had started. As lightening flashed overhead, refugees from the French quarter stumbled past the window, arms around each other, on their perpetual search for the next bar. They didn't seem to mind the rain. Eric ordered a True Blood, even though the dewey-eyed waitress looked about ready to give him the real deal. I got a coffee and Amelia ordered coffee plus bourbon. I raised my eyebrows. "It's been a long night," she said.

I sighed. As much as I'd like to push aside the sordid incident at Victor's, the brass tacks waited. "Jim killed Susan, but not the other women. He had no idea what I was talking about. We have four victims and no perpetrator."

"What about Fellowship of the Sun?" Amelia suggested. "They have the motive."

"But not the means." Eric put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. I noticed Amelia notice. She tried not to smile, but she might as well have been, because she was broadcasting like crazy that she thought we seemed 'good different,' whatever that meant.

"The perpetrator, or perpetrators, targets women linked to specific vampires." I explained. "Nobody without inside knowledge would know how to find them."

"So maybe it is a vampire," Amelia lowered her voice, even though we were the only people in the diner other than the staff and a table of drunk people eating French fries. "Maybe it's a vampire who didn't want to be turned or one who is jealous of the ones in power. Do you know anyone like that?"

"No," Eric said, but I wasn't sure he'd tell us if he did. We shut up for a good minute as the waitress swung by with our drinks. She made gooey eyes at Eric, but either he didn't notice or didn't care. As soon as she was gone, he said, "I want you to listen to my staff, Sookie. If that doesn't work, the staff of other vampire-owned businesses in the state. Even if the humans are not behind it, they may have seen something or been glamoured."

"It'll be like a needle in a haystack." I sighed. "That being said, it's the best idea we've got." I thought back to my experience reading Ginger. Vampires didn't take kindly to having their secrets revealed and as a result I'd almost been killed.

As if he could follow my thoughts, Eric squeezed my shoulder. "I'll come with you, of course."

"Thanks." Eric would have come with me regardless, but it was nice of him to offer, as if his main objective was to keep me safe as opposed to monitor my findings and punish the guilty. I gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He was stiff against me at first—surprised maybe at the public affection—then he leaned into it.

Eric's cell buzzed against my chest. It was in his breast pocket. He broke off the kiss, pulled his cell out, and glared at the caller ID. "Pam. I have to take this." As Eric walked away, I heard him answer the phone with "What?" I smiled. It was nice to know I wasn't the only one on the receiving end of his bad phone etiquette.

Amelia leaned across the table to share what she'd been bursting to since the moment Eric put his arm around me. "You two look good."

"Thanks. I feel good mostly. It's been a slog."

"Everything is," Amelia took a sip of her spiked coffee. "Want some?"

I waved her off. "I'm good, thanks."

"He seems different. Mellower, maybe."

"Is that your coffee talking?"

Amelia smiled and shrugged. "You tell me. You're the one living it."

"It feels good," I said. I felt resentful answering her question and wondered why. "Actually, he's been very good. Different than what I thought was possible. He let me give blood to Bill."

Amelia stared at me. "I'm not even going to touch that one," she said. "I worry about you sometimes."

I sighed. Was it bad that I knew exactly what she meant? "I worry about me too."

"I worry because he's a vampire, even if he is your man. But he seems serious about you—like person-serious, not that weird vampire I-must-protect my-human serious."

I laughed out loud. "Accurate description."

"After living in your house, I've seen all kinds." Amelia smiled. "What I'm trying to say is I'll be worrying less. For whatever that's worth."

"Thanks," I said, and meant it. Whatever my insecurities and problems with Eric were, it was nice to get a read from outside eyes.

"Smile, Sookie, you'll be okay," Amelia said as Eric came back to the table, looking decidedly unmellow.

He was still on the phone. "I'm in New Orleans. Six hour drive." He paused, listening to Pam, and frowned. "I'm not leaving her. You deal with it." He hung up.

Amelia who never had a problem being forward, even with a sometimes-scary, always-secretive vampire, asked, "Well?"

"Another murder." Eric sat down. "Felicia found her behind the bar. She's one of the newswomen from last night."

I couldn't believe any of those women would return to Fangtasia, especially after Eric glamoured them. "Why would she come back?"

"She didn't. She was brought."

"Alive?"

Eric's silence was enough of an answer.

"What happened last night?" Amelia never liked to be left out.

I summarized. "Reporters from the _Dallas Morning News_ snuck into Fangtasia to write a story about Eric and me. I heard them before they could do any damage and Eric sent them packing."

"Publically packing?" Amelia asked. "Did people see you fight with them?"

Eric gave Amelia his I-don't-want-to-answer-your-question face, so I said, "He crushed their camera in front of everyone."

"So you're being framed," Amelia said to Eric, taking another swig of her coffee. "Otherwise why go to the trouble of nabbing a victim all the way from Dallas?"

Eric didn't react, but I knew he was listening, even if he didn't like what he heard. "I agree with Amelia," I said. "Everything could be traced back to you. The only victim without a connection to Fangtasia was found behind the bar."

Eric didn't say anything. He was doing his blank, uncommunicative thing. "What are you thinking?" I asked.

"Framing is one idea." Eric said. "Or the person responsible could be trying to protect me."

"Protect you from what?"

"Humans."

Amelia laughed out loud, but shut up quick when she realized Eric wasn't joking.

"Do you have any idea of who it might be?"

Eric didn't say anything. I took that to mean yes.

"The reporter was drained," Eric said to me, later, after we'd said goodbye to Amelia and hopped in the corvette for the long drive back to Shreveport. "Pam will dispose of the body."

"What about her family?"

"We'll stage a car crash," he said. "They will find remains." I looked out the window. Two years ago I would have been outraged Eric wasn't taking this to the police. I understood why he couldn't, but I didn't know if I was happy at the change in my own morals. Should I let it slide? I scowled. Whether I 'should' or not, I was going to.

I turned back to the murders to avoid thinking about my wandering moral compass. After five victims, the killer had finally drained one. I worked it through out loud. "So a vampire is behind this. Not only that, it's a vampire who wants us to know he's a vampire."

"He wants me to know, not us." Eric glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Most likely," he amended.

I agreed with him in fact, if not principle. "Mr. Ego."

"That's not my name," he said, but he smiled.

----

"Sookie." Eric shook me awake. "Sookie, it's almost dawn."

I opened my eyes with a start. The sky was turning light. We were parked in a shoulder off the interstate. "Where are we?"

"About an hour outside of Shreveport," he said. "You'll have to take over from here. Can you stay awake?"

"Yeah." I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. "Where are you going to go?" Eric pressed a button under the dash. His trunk popped open. "Really?"

"It's better than a mobile coffin. No one suspects it." Eric got out of the car and I followed him around to the back. He climbed inside. The sky was beginning to turn pink.

Eric was so tall he had to fold his limbs. I leaned into the trunk and kissed him. He ran his fingers through my hair. "Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

I thought about it. The thanks had been more instinctive than literal. "Everything. Tonight was pretty awful and the only good thing was having you there."

Eric put his hands around my waist and yanked me close to him, up against the bumper. "In that case, thank you." He reached up and flicked the top button of my dress open.

I swatted his hand. "Don't start something you can't finish."

He undid the next button. "Blame the sun, not me." Eric's eyes flickered above my shoulder, to the sky. "You better close me up."

I kissed him again. "See you in half a day. I'm going to take you to Bon Temps, is that ok? I don't think I could find your house again."

"And we have dinner with your relatives."

I'd forgotten. After everything that happened, the prospect of dinner at Jason's seemed unreal. That was compounded by the fact that I was discussing it with my vampire husband before I locked him in a trunk so he didn't incinerate in the daylight. "Do you miss the sun?"

"No. I've gotten used to living without it." Eric kissed me. "Sookie, close the trunk, now."

There was such urgency in his voice I did what I was told. A moment later, the first rays of dawn spread over the horizon. I knocked once on the trunk, sort of as goodbye.

He knocked back.

I sat on the back of the corvette and watched the sunrise. About five minutes in, when the sun rolled up over the horizon, red and flaming, I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture. I texted it to Eric, then got back in the car and drove to Bon Temps.

----

_A/N: Belongs to HBO and Charlaine Harris._

_Thanks for reading and for your reviews. I always enjoy them._

_We're nearing the end of the road. There's only one day's worth of events left, so just a few more chapters. The next one should be up soon._


	13. Friday Afternoon

I drove halfway into my driveway before I noticed the woman sitting on my front stoop. I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was 8:54 am. I wasn't expecting visitors. The woman stood up and started running towards my car. It was Portia Bellefleur Vick. I decelerated, but as she got closer to me she showed no signs of slowing. I shut off the engine so I wouldn't accidently hit her. Portia threw herself against the corvette and pounded on the driver's-side window with her fists.

"What did you do to him?" she screamed. "What did you do to my brother?"

I didn't roll down the window for fear she'd hit me. "What are you talking about?"

"Where is he?" Portia's mascara ran down her face in black rivulets. She'd been crying. "It's you and that vamp of yours, I know it is. Andy told me he'd been over here and you threatened him. Where is he?" She smacked the roof of the car.

I had limited options. I could turn on the corvette and risk hitting Portia. I could get out of the car and risk being hit. Or I could try to reason with her, which probably wouldn't get me very far. "Portia, I don't know anything. You have to believe me."

Portia was beyond logic. "You're a nasty vamp-fucker, Sookie. You traded in your allegiance to the human race long ago. Don't think you can talk your way out of this one, I know your game."

"Portia, if you don't back off, I'm calling the police."

"Do it. I'll see you locked up for what you've done to Andy. I'm a lawyer."

Portia specialized in tax law, but she still knew her way around a courtroom better than me. Before I panicked, I reminded myself that I hadn't done anything wrong. Too often though, innocence took a back seat to influence. Because of the Bellefleur name, Portia was better connected to Bon Temps's few VIPs than I could ever hope to be. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't get out of the car without being pummeled by Portia. I couldn't turn it on without running into her, and with Eric in the trunk, I could risk anything happening to the corvette.

Portia had backed me into a corner. I took out my cell phone. I was calling the police. It was a gamble because I wasn't sure if they would side with Portia or me, but I didn't know what else do to. "Portia, I'll give you one last chance before I call you in for trespassing."

Portia pulled on the corvette's locked door handle. "Screw you, Sookie."

I dialed.

----

The five minutes it took for Bud Dearborne and Alcee Beck to arrive at my house went remarkably similar to the five minutes before. I sat in the corvette trying to stay cool, as Portia wept, insulted me, begged, and banged on the corvette. Out of her ratings, I was able to figure out that Andy Bellefleur had disappeared and Portia was convinced that Eric and I were responsible. I wanted to tell her that we had much more important things to do than randomly kidnap Andy, but I figured it would hype her up rather than calm her down, so I bit my tongue and sat in silence.

When the cops arrived, Alcee pulled Portia off the corvette and walked her over to the steps to cool down. It seemed that it was Bud's job to handle me. He knocked on the window and I unlocked the door. The newest member of the Bon Temps's police, a trained German Sheppard named Crisco, ran circles around Bud's ankles. I knelt down to give him a pat. Crisco snuffled and licked my face. At least one of the police officers liked me.

"Sookie, we need to talk," Bud said.

I braced myself and twined my fingers in Crisco's fur. Bud was thinking about Andy. I was running on three hours of sleep and could barely fit my own thoughts together, let alone fend off the suspicions of the police, but I didn't have any choice. "All right, Bud. What's up?"

"Andy Bellefleur didn't show up for his shift last night. Have you seen him?"

"No. Have you talked to Halleigh?" Halleigh was Andy's wife. If I were a detective, she would be the first person on my list. Why were they coming to me? Andy and I weren't particularly close. I didn't want to bring it up, but Andy also had a well-known drinking problem. To my knowledge he'd never out and out disappeared, but it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility.

"Halleigh's at a teachers' convention in Dallas. She's coming back today," Bud said. "At first we thought Andy was off being Andy," that was code for the drinking, "but after we checked with Portia, we thought it'd be a good idea to come see you."

When Jason disappeared, the police hadn't admitted that anything was wrong for two days. Andy had been missing for less than 24 hours and they were already rounding up the usual suspects. It made the Bon Temps double standard even more blatant. To be fair to Bud and Alcee, in looking for Andy they were covering one of their own. But even so, Andy's family was as wealthy and prominent a clan as there was in Bon Temps. Andy, Portia, and their grandmother Caroline Holliday-Bellefleur were our area's few 'somebodys..' Jason and I might be famous locally but it was all due to infamy, not history. I forced a few deep breaths, because anger wouldn't do me any good. I just wished Bud had been this responsive when Jason dropped off the face of the earth a year ago.

"Why did you come to me?" I asked. "What can I help you with?" I was proud I was so able to keep myself in check.

Bud pulled out his notebook. "Andy came over here the other night with that officer from Baton Rouge."

"The state police guy, yeah." Andy and the other cop had stopped by to ask me questions about my marriage to Eric. To my surprise, Eric sent them packing wearing my Gran's robe. The police had interrupted us engaged in a private activity and we'd had to improvise with the clothes situation. My ears burned at the memory.

"Portia tells us that Andy got in a fight with that big vampire."

"You mean Eric?"

Bud grimaced. The idea of Eric having a normal name made him uncomfortable. "Sure."

"They asked us some questions about getting married. We answered them. There wasn't a fight." I scratched behind Crisco's ears so I wouldn't have to look at Bud.

"That's not what Portia told me."

"Portia wasn't there." I was spitting mad that Portia assumed vampires were behind her alcoholic brother's disappearance and getting the cops to breathe down my neck because of it. Andy was quite capable of disappearing of his own volition. I tried to pet Crisco to get my mind off things, but he wiggled out of my arms and darted around the corvette, nose to the ground. I figured he was chasing a mouse or something. More power to him as far as I was concerned. I didn't have the money to pay an exterminator. "When was Andy seen last?"

"Yesterday afternoon. He got groceries at the Grabbit Kwik."

"I was with Eric all of last afternoon and night," I said. "There's no way he could have done anything. I'll testify, make a statement, whatever you need me to do."

"Is there anyone else? A third party to verify?" Bud asked.

My cheeks flushed. Bud was basically saying my word wasn't good enough. "We went down to New Orleans to see my roommate. You remember Amelia Broadway? I'll give you her number."

Bud raised his eyebrows. "You went all the way to New Orleans—"

At that moment, Crisco yelped. He reared up on his hind legs—which for a German Sheppard was no small feat—and started clawing the trunk of the corvette. Alcee stopped consoling Portia and sprinted towards him.

"Good boy, Crisco, good boy," Alcee yelled. "We got a body," he said to Bud. He pointed at me. "We got her." Portia staggered behind Alcee, wailing.

Oh fuck. I thought the dog had just been there for the cute value. I hadn't realized he had a purpose. My mind was working a step or two behind, and I realized what Crisco must have smelled. "Wait!" I screamed and bolted for the trunk.

Bud caught up and grabbed me about a foot from the corvette. Portia screeched obscenities at me, but Alcee held her back. I eyed Portia up and down. She was bigger than me, but I still might be able to take her in a fight. "Sookie, I'll need the keys," Bud said.

"It's not what you think," I gasped. I had a stitch in my side and my heart was thumping miles per minute. Crisco was still up on the trunk, clawing and sniffling around the sides.

"You've got my Andy in the trunk!" Portia yelled. "You killed him and you stuck him in the trunk!"

"I did not." Only Bud's arms around me kept me from launching myself at Portia.

"Sookie, if you don't give us the keys we'll have to break it open." Alcee grabbed Crisco's collar and tried to haul him off the corvette. Crisco howled and scrabbled at the trunk with his claws. I could only think of Eric's paint job. He was going to kill me.

It would kill the small bit of acceptance I'd hammered out in Bon Temps, but I didn't see any way out but the truth.

"Eric's in the trunk," I said.

All of them stopped and gawked at me. Crisco took the opportunity to break away from Alcee. He made a running leap and perched himself on top of the corvette.

They didn't say anything. They stared at me like I was a leper and their thoughts were worse than the silence. I forced myself to keep talking. "Eric and I went to New Orleans, like I was telling Bud. It was a long drive. The sun came up about a hundred miles ago. He didn't have anywhere else to go."

Bud cleared his throat. "Sookie, we're going to have to verify this."

I fought back tears. I would not let them see me cry. "You can't open the trunk. Not without killing him."

Alcee thought he was going to be sick. I glared at him. He embezzled money from people who didn't dare report the police to the police. Who was he to judge me for something Eric couldn't help?

Bud tried to be gentle. "Sookie, we have to. This is a missing persons investigation."

"Eric is a person too." I lost it. "How dare you come to me on hearsay? Portia was trespassing. This is harassment. I'll have the American Vampire League up your ass." I didn't even know how to reach the American Vampire League, but I figured Amelia could find it on the internet.

"Sookie, give me the keys," Bud said.

Then I did the dumbest thing I've done in maybe ever. I pulled Eric's keys out of my purse and lobbed them as far as I could throw. They made silver arc and fell about twenty feet away in my overgrown front yard. Crisco took off after them, Alcee right behind. I couldn't blame Crisco. He thought I was playing catch, but I glared after Alcee. As soon as I threw the keys, I knew it was a mistake, but I would rather go to prison than allow them to open the trunk and incinerate Eric to satisfy their bigoted curiosity.

Bud shook his head. "Sookie, you shouldn't have done that."

Duh, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "What if it was your wife?" I asked. Bud didn't say anything.

Crisco cemented his reputation as super sleuth of the day by getting to my keys before Alcee. However he took off with them in his mouth to bury them, leading to a five minutes Keystone cops sequence where Alcee chased the dog around my front yard. Those precious minutes gave me time to think of a plan. When Alcee returned, panting, covered in dirt, and holding Eric's keys, I was ready for him. "I want to negotiate," I said.

Alcee wiped the sweat off his brow. "You're not in a position to ask for anything."

"Actually, I am," I stood up straight, trying to emulate the casual way Eric commanded a room. "If I'm telling the truth and you open that trunk and Eric burns up, it'll be murder."

"Manslaughter, maybe," Alcee said.

"Don't think I won't go to the press." I said. "Those newspapers in New York would just love to hear about small town cops victimizing vampires."

Bud sounded tired. "We're opening the trunk, Sookie."

"Sure," I said. "But you're going to let me drive the car around back and I'll open it in the shade, and for no more than ten seconds."

Bud and Alcee looked at each other. I tried the last tactic in my bag. "Bud, please. You were a friend of my Dad's."

Bud sighed.

In the end, I let Alcee drive the corvette, because apparently I was a 'flight risk.' He parked in the puddle of shade left by a big oak in my back yard. I kicked myself for never building a garage, but it had seemed foolish when all I had to take care of was my Malibu. I figured Eric had been out in full sun for around thirty seconds during that awful incident at Rhodes and hoped we would be all right today. I forced Bud to grab a tarp from the garage. While Bud and Alcee held up the tarp up shield the trunk, Portia peered around the side, holding back Crisco, her hand on his collar.

I unlocked the trunk and eased the top open.

Just as I had said, Eric was tucked in, his long limbs folded up on top of each other. He looked like a corpse stuffed in a trunk.

Eric's face started to smoke.

I slammed the trunk shut.

"Well?" I said.

----

After Portia and the police left, I tried to get some sleep, but between the Fangtasia murders and Andy Bellefleur's disappearance my mind wouldn't quiet down and let me rest. I spent a full hour tossing and turning. When the doorbell rang, I threw on a robe and bolted downstairs. Although I was half-afraid it would be the police again, I mostly welcomed the distraction.

I opened the door to see Tripp Hunt. Tripp and I had been in the same class at high school, but these days he worked as Renard Parish's mailman. Tripp juggled a handful of letters and a cardboard box half as tall as he was.

"Hi Sookie," he said. "You're going to have to sign for this one."

I pulled the clipboard out from under his arm and scrawled my name. The package was from Amelia and I figured it had to be Hadley's light-tight shudders.

"What have you got in there?" Tripp groaned as he hoisted Amelia's box into my front hall.

I felt self-conscious. How could I even begin to explain the concept of light-tight shudders to a guy I'd barely spoken to since we graduated from high school? "Just a lot of books. From my old roommate."

"They're heavy books. You starting a library or something?"

"Yeah, just about." I took the letters from him. "Thanks, Tripp."

"Sure thing." He took off his hat to wipe sweat off his forehead. "You need help putting this box anywhere?"

I wasn't about to ask Tripp to take the shudders up to my bedroom. I'd figure out some way to move it. Maybe I'd ask Eric to do it when he got up. Or maybe not. I'd only ask him if I decided to install the shudders. Permanently changing the architecture of my house to suit Eric felt like a big step. It might be a bigger step than I was prepared to make. "No thanks, Tripp, I'll handle it."

Tripp nodded and glanced around the hall. There was an awkward silence. We knew each other well enough to feel obligated to socialize, but not well enough to have much to say. I couldn't wait until the news that I kept my husband in my car trunk got around Bon Temps. That would really make all these small talk moments a lot easier. Tripp manned up first. "So, you got married?" he asked.

There wasn't any point to denying it. "A couple months ago."

"Just eloped?"

"Sort of."

"Well, congratulations. He's a lucky…" Tripp trailed off. He was wondering what was the correct way to refer to a vampire and hoping that he wouldn't offend me.

"Man," I supplied. "He's a lucky man."

Tripp laughed. He sounded nervous. "Sure. A lucky man."

"Thanks." Tripp didn't know it, but his was the first congratulations I received. I wasn't expecting cards and silverware anytime soon, not that silver would ever be an appropriate gift when a vampire was the groom. "Can I get you tea or something?"

"No, thanks," Tripp said. "I've got my rounds to finish. I'll be seeing you, Sookie."

"Sure." I waved as he headed for the door. I sat down on the box containing Hadley's shudders and flipped through the letters. The first two were bills, which made me wince, but the third letter made me pause. It was an ordinary white envelope, but it was addressed to:

_ERIC NORTHMAN_

_c/o Miss Sookie Stackhouse_

_5 Hummingbird Lane_

_Bon Temps, Louisiana 71225_

The writing on the mystery envelope was a formal cursive not unlike Gran's. It was the penmanship of another time. There was no return address, but the letter was postmarked from Rome, Georgia two days ago.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn't know anybody from Rome, Georgia. I didn't even know anyone from Georgia. And beyond that, who would think to contact Eric through me? But once I thought about it, that answer became clearer. Technically, anyone in the state who could read might know that Eric spent time at my house, since our names had been published together in the _Bon Temps Gazett_e and who knows however many other articles on our marriage.

I kicked myself for not getting an unlisted telephone number and address. As this letter and the various attempts on my life showed, I was far too easy to find. But two years ago, or whenever it was that I last verified my number with the people at the white pages, how was I supposed to know that I would become Louisiana's hottest target for supernatural assassination? I resolved to call the phone company tomorrow to get my name taken off the books.

When I picked up the letter to take a closer look, something heavy slid from one end of it to the other. It was stuffed with more than just paper. I wanted to open the letter, but it was addressed to Eric. I set it on the hall table, so I wouldn't be tempted.

After that was taken care of, I was faced with the big box. I couldn't decide whether to bring the shudders up to my bedroom or to hide them from Eric, so I stalled and called Amelia.

She answered the phone with a groan.

"Hi sleepyhead," I said. "It's almost noon."

Amelia yawned. "Who kept me up last night?"

I didn't want to turn this into a contest, but I was sure I'd gotten less sleep than she had. "Who drove from New Orleans to Bon Temps last night?"

"Yeah, yeah," Amelia said, sounding more awake by the second. "What's up, Sookie?"

"I need another favor." I'd been asking a lot of her lately and I felt a little guilty. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Fine, as long as you keep your promise," Amelia said. "What is it?"

"Last night, I promised Victor I'd destroy his marriage license. It was either that or let him to burn the archives."

"You want me to destroy a government document?"

Destroying Victor's marriage license was really lesser of two evils, but it sounded bad when she put it like that. "Please?"

"Sookie, you do know that this information probably digitized, right? I didn't check for it, but my guess is anyone who knows what they are looking for could find Victor's records online."

I hadn't thought of that. Computers were getting so sophisticated nowadays, but I still had trouble figuring out how to turn them on. Maybe I could get Bill to take care of Victor's internet problem once he was feeling better. "Please Amelia. I promised Victor I'd take care of it."

She sighed. "All right, Sookie. But I'm expecting one hell of a homecoming next time I visit Bon Temps."

"You got it," I said. "And thanks for sending Hadley's shudders. They just arrived."

"I'm glad they're going to get some use. I'm sure Eric will be too. Are you going to install them yourself?'

I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I was going to install them period, but when I thought back to how far Eric and I had come in the last week it seemed like less of a question. I still had a lot of lingering issues, but I was coming to believe that being publically outed had been one of the best things that happened to us. I wasn't sure that I would have forced myself to give him so much of a chance otherwise.

"Yeah," I said. "I guess I am."

----

Eric's blood made me stronger, but not superman strong, so it was still a struggle to drag the shudders up the stairs. I almost regretted not taking Tripp up on his offer of carrying them into the house. It would only be a matter of time before the whole town knew Eric spent his days in the trunk of my car. What would be the harm in people knowing he slept over in my bedroom? Technically we were married. There was nothing wrong with living together.

On the other hand, for safety reasons, Eric probably wouldn't like it if greater Bon Temps knew where he spent the day. There was a big blabbing mouths per capita ratio within our city limits and anything concerning vampires sent the gossips into overdrive. If I was careless, it would only be a matter of time before all of Eric's resting places became open secrets.

After I got the box of shudders up to my bedroom, I ran to the kitchen to grab an old tool set. I owned a motley assortment of hand-me-downs from Jason. I scrounged up an electric screwdriver, a hammer, two wrenches, and a box of screws. I hoped it would be enough to install the shudders. I wanted the job to be finished by the time Eric woke up so I could surprise him.

As I carried the tools upstairs, I wondered what Gran would think about me outfitting my bedroom—her old bedroom—for my vampire boyfriend slash husband slash whatever he was. I decided she wouldn't care, as long as I was happy. I decided I didn't care either, as long as I was happy. And I'm not embarrassed to say I felt pretty happy as I ripped open the cardboard box to reveal Hadley's old shudders. I'd slept by myself too long. Corpse or not, I wanted to wake up next to Eric every morning I could. I wasn't ashamed of it.

The shudders were made of a heavy wood, with steel caps around all the edges. Hadley had painted them black, of course, which made them look as if they'd been looted from Dracula's castle. I rolled my eyes and hoped it was an aesthetic as opposed to practical choice. As long as the shudders were solid, it couldn't matter what color they were. I'd resolved to repaint them as soon as I got them up and working.

Amelia had included some hinges in the package, so I had a pretty easy job of hoisting the shudders against the wall and screwing them in. The hard part was positioning them right so that no light would shine through. Luckily, Hadley's windows had been a little larger than mine, so I had wiggle room.

As I worked, my thoughts turned to the murders. I knew Eric figured something out that he wasn't telling me. I knew him well enough I could smell it when he tried to hide something from me. Eric never outright lied, which was nice in its way, but he also shared selective bits of information. The last thing I wanted was to know every little thing Eric did. If that ever happened, I was fairly sure it would be the end of our relationship. But even so, I hated it when he kept secrets that directly concerned me. Eric had gotten better about sharing, but his record was far from 100 percent.

On the other hand, I couldn't expect Eric to open up overnight. A thousand years of secret keeping didn't end easy. I resolved to ask him what he knew when he woke up. He would tell me if I posed a direct question and didn't give him a hole to wiggle through. One thing I really appreciated about Eric was that he'd rather have me upset at him than lie to my face. In that, he was the exact opposite of Bill. Bill would look like a pretty package and bury everything about himself that was terrifying. Eric mimed the monster and hid what made him seem most human.

Last night, Eric hypothesized the killer might be targeting human women to 'protect' him. It was a very specific motive. It was so specific, I was sure Eric knew more than he was letting on.

I wondered if the murders had anything to do with Andy's disappearance. It didn't seem likely. Up until this point, the killer had only targeted women and as far as I knew Andy didn't have anything to do with vampires. My personal theory was that Andy had gone on a bender because Halleigh was out of town at her conference. He was probably at some biker bar in Monroe now, pounding down whisky sours. If I remembered later, I'd call Sam to see if Andy had stopped by Merlotte's.

I knew Eric scared Andy when he stopped by my house to question us, but it seemed like flat-out bigotry and vampire-baiting to make the leap from intimidation to kidnapping. Besides, Andy was hardly an innocent bystander. During the entire interrogation, Andy fantasized that Eric ran some kind of vampire-blood drug ring, which was just prejudiced and totally stereotypical, not to mention ridiculous. Bill was the only person Eric gave blood to.

Then I stopped.

Eric gave blood to Bill. Bill was related to Andy Bellefleur.

I put down the screwdriver.

_I'll be starting a new treatment,_ Bill had said to me earlier in the week when Eric and I visited him at his house. Bill called his treatment experimental. When I'd pressed him, he said it had to do with blood. I remembered thinking that Bill's unwillingness to give me other information seemed suspicious. I'd written my feelings off as paranoia.

I dropped Hadley's shudder and ran to find my phone. It was on the hall table next to the mysterious letter from Rome, Georgia. Scowling at the envelope, I opened my cell's contacts and flipped down to the L's.

The phone rang six times before flipping me over to voicemail. "You have reached Doctor Ludwig's office. We aren't accepting any new patients—"

I hung up and dialed again. After a couple rings, Ludwig picked up. She sounded grouchy. "Sookie, what is it? Is this about your recovery? It's my day off."

"It's Bill Compton," I said. "I need to know about his new treatment."

"That's covered by doctor-patient confidentiality."

I felt desperate. Ludwig was tough enough she might not cave to my demands. "Please. There's a man in my town who has gone missing. All I want to know is if Bill's involved."

Ludwig sighed. "Mr. Compton's blood had been poisoned. He required a donation from a blood relative to rebuild a clean supply. These kind of treatments are usually impossible for vampires, but Mr. Compton is very lucky to have living descendants."

That was all I needed to hear. "You kidnapped Andy."

Ludwig sounded offended. "I didn't do anything. It's perfectly legal. The Sherriff of Area 5 authorized the operation."

I hung up the phone.

I had never expected that Portia Bellefleur would have been right. I had flat-out lied to the police because I believed Eric wasn't capable of something he had actually done. I was a fool.

I stumbled up the stairs and tried to order my thoughts. I felt like I was in a trance. I unscrewed all the shudders I had installed and piled them in front of the window in my bedroom overlooking the driveway. Then I slid into bed and set my alarm for four-thirty pm.

If I dreamed, I didn't remember it. I closed my eyes to sleep and the next thing I knew, I was opening them and smacking my alarm off its second snooze. I staggered into a clean dress and pulled a chair up to the window to wait for Eric. It didn't take long. The sky turned pink as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. I had watched the sun rise this morning and now I was watching it set.

The sky had turned a deep blue by the time I saw movement in the corvette. The trunk wiggled and popped open. As soon as I saw Eric's blond hair, I threw open the window, grabbed one of Hadley's shudders and pushed it out at him. It flew through the air, smashed into the ground and splintered into about a hundred different shards. "Don't you even think about coming up here," I yelled, and grabbed the next shudder. Eric wormed out of the trunk and looked around for my voice. Then, he noticed me up at the window.

"Sookie, what the hell?"

I pushed the second shudder out the window. Eric jumped out of the way as it plummeted and hit the ground in a splintering crash. "I was going to install these shudders in my bedroom," I said. "Amelia sent them all the way from New Orleans. But you've missed your chance."

"Sookie, stop. These are wood."

I paused, ready to lob the third shudder at Eric.

"They are stakes," Eric clarified, unnecessarily.

I pulled the third shudder back through my window. I wanted to scare Eric, maybe drive him off, but never kill him. I was angry at myself that I hadn't thought of what shattered wood could do.

"Let me come in to talk," Eric yelled.

"I haven't rescinded your invitation," I said and flopped back on my bed.

Thirty seconds later, Eric was in bed with me. "No," I said, in reference to nothing other than his general presence, and rolled over so that my back was to him.

He ignored me and ran his hands over my shoulders. I hated that it still felt good. "Tell me what I've done wrong."

"Where is Andy Bellefleur?" I asked.

Eric took his hand off of my shoulder, so I knew I had him. "This is your town policeman?"

"Eric, I know you know who Andy Bellefleur is." I said. "I know you know I know. I know you kidnapped him so that Bill and Dr. Ludwig could do some sick blood experiment on him."

"I didn't kidnap him," Eric said. "Pam did."

As if that made it any better. "On your instructions?"

"On Doctor Ludwig's instructions. At my authorization. And it's hardly kidnapping," Eric said. "He'll be returned to his family tomorrow when Bill's treatment is complete. He won't remember any of it." He paused. "I can arrange for some financial compensation if that makes you feel better."

Eric's suggestion made me feel worse. I rolled over so I could look at him. "Eric, that isn't the point. You can't go around kidnapping people."

Eric stiffened. "Actually, I can. This is my Area. I manage it as I see fit." I flipped away from him again and stared at the wall. He put his hand on my hip. I shrugged him off, but he grabbed me again. "Sookie, I didn't take him for fun. The Doctor says Bill will die without this procedure."

"Did you ask Andy?"

Eric laughed. "Do you think he would have said yes? Humans don't help vampires."

I was also sure that Andy's answer would have been no, but I didn't know how I felt about it. Kidnapping Andy for his blood was wrong. Letting Bill die was wrong too. "Andy should have had a choice."

"And what if he said no?"

Eric had a point. Kidnapping Andy after he said no wasn't any better than kidnapping him without asking. Out of those two options, I almost preferred the second. At least it was more honest. But that still didn't make it right. "How would you like it if someone kidnapped you and used your blood in hospitals?" I said. "You could save thousands of lives, but you don't."

Eric turned it back at me. "What about you? You could use your talent to work for your government and catch criminals. You would save lives, but do you?"

"I have to live my own life." I was mad as punch he was trying to change the subject by targeting me.

"So do I," Eric said. "So does this Andy. In the end he will have lost one day. It's a minor inconvenience. Bill could have lost his life." Eric put his arm around me and pulled me close to him. "Sookie, you would be angry at me if I wasn't saving Bill. You are angry with me now that I am. What are you really upset about?"

I sighed. I wasn't sure. "I'm angry you don't play by the rules. I'm angry you use people without regard for their rights."

"I don't do that," Eric said.

"Yes, you do." I countered. "Maybe you have to, to be a good Sherriff. In this instance, I probably would have made the same choice you did. But it is bigger than this one time, Eric. You do use people. You make decisions for them without thinking about what they want."

"Maybe it's because I have a fuller sense of the situation." Eric let go of me and got out of the bed, disrupting all the sheets in the process. His fangs were out so I knew he was mad. "I am better able to make certain decisions than you are."

I sat up and stared at him. "I wasn't talking about us. I was talking generally."

"You were talking about us."

I got up, stamped to the bathroom and slammed the door. Then I sat down on the toilet and forced myself to breathe deep. I needed to calm down. On one level, Eric was right. I had been talking about us. But Eric's highhandedness was a broader problem about the way he interacted with the world. Alcide and Quinn hated Eric because he treated them like they didn't matter. Eric thought about himself first, the people he cared about second—a list I would limit to Pam and myself—then the vampires under his protection third. That was it. If Eric didn't understand ordinary people had intrinsic value or moral rules were more important than his say-so, we'd continue to have these fights.

It was unfair to say Eric was devoid of morality, but he wasn't in tune with it either. Whether you believed in a higher power or not, there were definitely higher rules than the ones Eric created to suit himself. I hated that he shut people out and felt like he had the right to make decisions for the world. When he made a choice for me without consulting me, he was shutting me out. That wasn't a relationship. It was a dictatorship. I got up and opened the door to the bathroom.

Eric was gone. I threw myself onto my bed. I felt like crying but I couldn't summon the energy for tears.

"Sookie."

I yelped. Eric sat in an armchair in the corner or my bedroom, shrouded in darkness.

"You startled me," I said, even though it was obvious from my reaction. "I thought you had left."

Eric ignored me. "Your suspicion is exhausting. You give Bill an easier time that you give me."

"Eric, I—"

"You give Bill an easier time than you give me," Eric repeated. "He's drinking your policeman's blood right now and you haven't mentioned him. Realize that Bill doesn't often find himself in the kind of position where he has to make the decisions I do. I'm a Sherriff, Sookie," he said. "This is what I do."

It was a fair point, but I had one of my own. "I give Bill an easier time than I give you, because I care about what you do," I said.

Eric looked at me. I looked back at him.

"All I want is for us to have a conversation. I'm sick of highhanded," I said. "You won't lie to me?"

"No."

"You'll talk to me?"

"Yes."

I held out my arms to him. "Okay, then come here."

Eric held up his finger. "My decisions are not always perfect, but I do the best I can."

I sat up in bed. "I get it."

"I will do things you won't like. I want you to try to understand why I'm doing them instead of judging me, knee-jerk."

"This thing with Andy wasn't knee-jerk."

"Sookie."

"Okay, I'll try. But I will tell you what I think."

"Good," Eric said.

I held my arms out for him. "Now, please come here."

He crawled into bed with me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I clung to his chest like some kind of koala. If he'd been alive, I would have been in the exact position to hear his heartbeat. "I'm sorry I almost staked you."

Eric growled and nipped at my ear. "Never do that again."

----

We ended up taking one of 'those' showers, which was the first time we'd put my bathroom to that particular use since our first time more than a year ago. I was in good spirits because of the rechristening, as was Eric. He was walking around the house naked like he owned the place, which I guess, in some ways, he kind of did. Without a doubt he was the man of the house. I had to look into marriage and property ownership laws. With Eric, you could never be too careful, even though we weren't legally married by Louisiana's standards. In human circles, weird knife rituals didn't hold as much water as a stamp from the justice of the peace.

Michele had left me a message asking us to come for dinner around seven-thirty. I sent Eric to the kitchen to find a bottle of wine to bring to Jason's, which gave me time to search through my closets to find him something to wear. If worse came to worse, he could go in his all black ensemble from last night, but I'd prefer it if he wore a few other colors. It was too much to invite the neighborhood vampire and have him show up to dinner dressed like Vincent Price.

Jason was muscular, but he was still a lot smaller than Eric. It would also be strange if Eric showed up to Jason's house wearing Jason's old clothes, even though I doubted Jason was observant enough to notice. My saving grace was that Gran's husband Mitchell had been a big man—fat, not tall. I hoped his shirts would be large enough to fit Eric. Eric could wear his own black dress pants from the night before.

I found a tub of Grandpa Mitchell's old clothes on the top of Gran's closet. When Eric returned with a bottle of wine—red, of course—I'd laid out a blue striped shirt and a red tie. It was Grandpa Mitchell's old church outfit.

Eric stared at the clothes like they were going to bite him. "What are these?"

"I don't want you showing up in all black," I said. "They were my grandfather's."

"Niall's?"

"My fake grandfather, the human." Niall was my great-grandfather, but I figured it wasn't my place to correct Eric. My family tree was so confusing I barely understood it myself.

Eric set the wine down. "If I wear these, you will wear whatever I want the next time we go to Fangtasia."

I stared at the shirt and tie. That was a big bargain. Eric was bound to put me in something plastic or leather that made me look like a dominatrix hooker. In contrast, I was asking Eric to wear church-appropriate apparel. "Eric, I don't know."

"Sookie, this is exactly the same situation. I dress for your world, you dress for mine."

I flopped down on the bed. It was very difficult to argue with Eric. "Fine."

As Eric got dressed in Grandpa Mitchell's shirt and tie, I pulled on a church dress and went through my bathroom drawers to find a ribbon to tie around Michele's wine. I didn't get asked on many non-supe adult dinner dates and didn't expect many more in my future. I was determined to make a good impression.

When I got back from the bathroom, Eric sat on my bed in the blue shirt. The red tie hung loose around his neck. "Tie it for me," he said.

I'd seen Eric wear suits before. "Don't you know how?"

"Of course," he said. "But I want you to do it."

I put the bottle of wine on my dresser, walked over to him, and picked up the tie. The silk felt cool in my hands. Eric leaned back and gave me this sexy look that made me shiver from my toes on up. Grandpa Mitchell never looked this good in his church clothes. When I finished the knot and tightened it up against Eric's throat, he caught my wrists and pulled me in for a kiss. My cheeks flushed and I felt something warm and tingly snake through me as Eric dragged his mouth over my bottom lip.

"Thank you for doing this," I said.

"You're welcome," Eric replied. I rested my forehead against his.

Then Eric ruined the moment by slapping my ass on his way to pick up Michele's wine bottle from the dresser. "Men," I said to myself as I checked my hair in the mirror. I grabbed my purse and followed Eric out our bedroom door.

I found Eric in the front hall. He had set Michele's bottle of wine on the hall table and was holding a white envelope. "What's this?"

It was the letter from earlier in the afternoon. "It came for you in the mail. I forgot to mention it with everything." There was no need to go into the specifics of 'everything.' I didn't want to think about Andy Bellefleur for years. "Do you know anyone from Georgia?" I asked, remembering the postmark.

Eric stared at the front of the letter. "Rome, Georgia."

"Right. Do you know anyone from Rome?"

Eric shook his head, as if to clear it. "No."

As he slid his thumb under the lip of the envelope, I said, "It's heavy. I don't think it's a letter."

Eric opened the envelope and a piece of metal fell into his hand. At first I thought it was a bullet, but when he held it up to the light, I saw that it was too round and flat. Eric stared at it for a second, and then slammed it down on the table. "Come on, let's go." He started towards the door.

I ignored Eric and picked up the piece of metal. It was tarnished and seemed very old. At first, it didn't look like much of anything, but when I saw at it up close, I could tell that it was a coin. On one side, there was a man's head. He was wearing a helmet and had a large nose. I flipped the coin over. The other side showed an eagle ringed with random letters. I squinted to read it: _SPQR OPTIMO PRINCIPI_

"What is this?"

"No idea," Eric said.

Eric was furious. I could feel his anger thrum through the bond. It made my blood pick up and my heart beat faster. It also made me doubt him. "If you don't know what it is, why are you so angry?"

"I'm angry that a crazy person found your address," Eric said. "I'm angry they are harassing you because of me. I'm angry at Victor for telling the humans about us and making this possible. Do you want me to keep going?"

I held up the coin. "You don't know what this is?"

"It's a coin," Eric said. And with that, he stamped out the front door.

I set the coin on the table. In his haste to leave the house and our conversation, Eric had forgotten the wine for Michele. Men. I took the bottle and followed Eric out the door. The light-tight shudders lay in the middle of my front lawn, a pile of broken stakes.

"Are you coming?" Eric said, leaning against the front of the corvette. Even wearing a tie—even wearing my dead grandfather's church clothes—Eric didn't look domestic. He looked so good it felt illegal. The blue shirt brought out his eyes, but now was not the time to thank God for the good-looking man he'd sent my way. With some difficulty, I forced myself to stop ogling and concentrate on the problem at hand.

"Who sent that letter?" I asked. I figured it was a specific enough question Eric had to answer me straight. I knew that he knew. Eric never got rattled without a good reason.

Eric kissed me on the forehead. "There was no return address."

"That's true, but it wasn't what I asked you."

He laughed and opened the corvette's passenger door. "Come on. We're going to be late."

_----_

_A/N: Belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO. _

_Thanks for reading and for the reviews, and special kudos for all of you who called the murderer._

_Dinner at Jason's is next. Will Sookie have the nice, civilized meal she's hoping for?_


	14. Dinner, Part 1

I was a second away from ringing Jason's doorbell when Eric asked, "Do they know to invite me in?"

I'd forgotten Eric needed an invitation. I hadn't briefed Jason or Michele with the dos and don'ts of having a vampire over for supper—e.g. _do_ stock True Blood, _don't_ get a paper cut, _do_ keep your distance, _don't_ make sudden movements—and so on. Eric had started to feel so normal to me, I'd forgotten most people needed a primer. We had spent so much time together lately I'd gotten used to having him around. His presence felt like a given. I realized being with Eric felt comfortable to me, almost right, and tucked that away to think about later.

"They invited us to their house," I tried.

"Doesn't count."

I couldn't believe something as basic as the invite slipped my mind. "People usually invite you in without thinking about it."

"Or I glamour them."

I gave Eric the kind of look Gran turned on Jason when he got suspended for the fourth time in a school year, or stumbled home past midnight stinking of beer, or had yet another girl's father call the house demanding to know where his daughter was. "My family is off limits. We'll explain the situation, if we have to."

Eric gave me Gran's look right back. "Humiliating."

I stood my ground, stood up on my toes and gave him a kiss. When it came down to it, I knew Eric wouldn't glamour Jason or Michele. He might be highhanded, but he had a sense of boundaries. Even considering the stunt he pulled with Andy, Eric always had his reasons. Eric was rational and even if I didn't agree with him, I could usually understand why he chose to do what he'd done.

Eric kissed me back and gathered me to him. His hands swept down my back and lingered on my hips. I shivered, but not from cold, and balled my hands in his shirt as I kissed him. I took it slow, feeling his whole body move against me as he opened his mouth and let me draw out his bottom lip. The whole idea of Eric coming to family dinner at my brother's home seemed so ludicrous and unlikely I could hardly believe we were standing here making out like teenagers on Jason's front stoop. I knew I could always count on Eric in crisis, but there was no life or death with dinner at Jason's. He had come because he cared.

I broke off the kiss, but twined my fingers in his belt loops. "I really appreciate you being here."

Eric goosed me. "I'll hold you to that later."

I yelped, but then I laughed, and then he laughed, and then we were kissing again. I kissed him close-mouthed, his mouth soft against mine, and then forced myself to pull away. "We can't spend all night on the doorstep."

Eric looped his fingers around the belt of my dress and dragged me back to him. He basically enveloped me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Why not? I will glamour your humans into thinking we finished dinner, then you and I can entertain ourselves."

"Not happening," I said, although part of me—especially the part right below the belt Eric wasn't letting go of—was sorely tempted to take him up on his offer. I handed Eric the bottle of wine. I knew if I didn't start moving, I'd cave and let him drag me off to whatever love nest he wanted. "Give this to Michele. It will make a good impression." Hopefully, the wine could gain back any ground we lost from a potential invite fiasco.

I moved to ring the doorbell, but Eric caught my wrist. "Sookie, about the letter—"

My heart started thumping. I was grateful Eric had decided to come clean when I hadn't even asked. "Yes?"

Eric reached into his pocket and pulled out a ziplock baggy holding a slender silver chain. "I'd like you to wear this."

I looked from the chain to Eric and back again. There were all kinds of things I wanted to say to him, but curiosity skyrocketed to the top of the list. "You want me to wear this because of the letter?"

"Yes."

"Do you usually keep silver in your pockets?"

"I keep silver in the glove compartment of the corvette," Eric said, before adding, "with gloves."

I took the baggy from him. What I had thought was one silver chain was actually two. Both were long and thin, like lengths of rope, and neither was a closed loop. "What are these for?" They sure as hell weren't jewelry.

He smiled at me. "Tying up vampires."

I smiled back. I didn't know how often Eric was attacked by vampires, but I thought it was pretty clever of him to keep silver around. Most vamps shunned silver. They wouldn't get beyond the fact it burned to think about its potential use. I could think of a handful of times vampire restraints would have saved me a trip to the hospital.

"Thanks." I draped one around my neck, letting the long ends dangle. It was a little fashion-forward for my taste, but the functionality was more important than looks. I handed the plastic baggy back to Eric. "You keep the other, just in case." Eric slipped it into his pocket. "We're safe at Michele and Jason's, right? Because if there's any chance that we could get attacked, we should leave now. I can't get my brother into trouble." Jason did a good enough job of it by himself.

"We're safe," Eric said.

I stared at him. "How do you know?" Eric didn't say anything, so I tried again. "Tell me about the letter."

"You are too upset." I rolled my eyes. I wasn't upset, but Mr. Big and Blond was getting me there. Trying to weasel out of something he didn't want to do by turning attention back to me was a classic Eric move. The only good thing I could say with regards to him pulling it on me so many times was that I was finally wise to it.

"I'm not upset. I will be upset if you don't tell me what I need to know and I end up dead."

"That won't happen."

"Would you take my word on something like this, if our roles were reversed?"

"I would trust you, yes."

I crossed my arms. I stared at him. He stared at me. I wondered why our conversations always devolved to a silent battle of wills.

To my surprise, Eric caved first. "I will tell you after the meal. We came all the way here. You should enjoy your family time." Then he reached over my shoulder and rang the doorbell. Damn those long arms.

I was kind of pissed, but when Michele opened the door there wasn't much more I could do. She wore an apron and June Cleaver pearls.

"Hi, you two. Come on in. Jason's around back with the grill." And there was the invitation, slipping off Michele's tongue so naturally, she probably didn't even realize she'd broken a magical barrier. Michele beamed as Eric ducked his head through the door. "You must be Eric, it's so nice to finally meet you."

"You too," Eric said, and gave her a big smile I'm sure had never graced the inside of Fangtasia. Michele wondered where Eric's fangs were and then scolded herself for thinking about it. Eric held out the bottle of wine. "Sookie picked this out."

"Well, aren't you sweet?" Michele took the bottle from Eric. "Let me run into the kitchen and put this away for dinner."

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Eric tailed Michele. As he followed her into the kitchen he looked over his shoulder at me and winked. I had walked into my brother's house, but I felt like I trespassing in the Twilight Zone.

Watching Eric help out in the kitchen was too surreal for me, so I went looking for Jason. I found him on the back porch, bent over the grill, flipping steaks. "Wow," I said, coming up behind him. "You're really going all out." Growing up, we'd only had steak on special occasions: birthdays, holidays, that sort of thing.

"First time meeting the new in-laws," Jason said. He stopped what he was doing and gave me a peck on the cheek.

I picked up on the buzz in Jason's head as much as his odd turn-of-phrase. "So Michele's going to be an in-law?"

Jason shrugged and poked at the steaks. "Maybe. I think I'd like her to be."

It had been just two months since Crystal's murder, but Jason's marriage was over long before that. I just felt glad he found someone he could feel sure about. "Jason, that's great. Have you two talked about it?"

"We're playing it by ear," he poked the steaks again to avoid looking at me. His thoughts were jumbled, as they had been ever since he had been bitten, but I could tell that he was uncomfortable. "I haven't told her about…" Jason trailed off.

"The bite?" I said, since he didn't seem to be able to. On the night of the Great Reveal, Jason hadn't shifted in public like the other weres. He wasn't trying to hide his identity, but as I far as I could tell, he wasn't particularly open about it either.

Jason nodded. "She might know, because of all the time I spent in Hotshot, but I couldn't tell her when we started dating and now it feels too late. I'm not ashamed, don't get me wrong. But I don't want to lose her over something like this." He scowled and flipped a steak. "I wouldn't be this way if it weren't for Crystal."

"I'm sorry, Jason." Jason was thinking he would be better off if he'd never met Crystal. I pulled out of his head. His hurt was still really raw and it felt too personal to eavesdrop on. I was never one of Crystal's fans, but I didn't know if I agreed with Jason's total dismissal. It wasn't really my place to have an opinion. What I did know was, through no fault of Jason's, Crystal would probably still be alive if she hadn't gotten mixed up with him. "I guess we're marked by the people we love." I didn't know what else to say. After feeling Jason's anger, I couldn't help but think of the way Bill had hurt me—scarred me, really. The old pain I associated with Bill could just as find a corollary with Jason and Crystal, or, I was willing to bet, most any couple.

"Sometimes it shows a little more than others." Jason pointed to his head and twirled his finger. "Does Eric know about your—"

"Telepathy?" It may have been the first time I said the word out loud in front of Jason. Growing up, 'knowing things' was our family's euphemism of choice. "He found out the first time we met. But we weren't together then. Not even close."

"It makes a difference," Jason said. "Its harder when you're together. I want to tell Michele everything and nothing at the same time."

Jason had never really been this forthcoming with me. "Sometimes I feel like I know everything about everyone, but know no one, deep down." The words slipped out before I could think about them and once I said it, I felt embarrassed.

"What about Eric?" Jason asked.

I shrugged. "What about him?" I knew Eric as well as a human could know a vampire, but I had been afraid to learn what I now knew, and on some level, I was scared to know more. Was I afraid of what I'd find out about him or of what I'd end up revealing about myself? It was probably a bit of both. "I don't know if I want to know Eric."

I was surprised that Jason seemed to understand. "I've always had a lot of friends. Football team and that. And you know about me and the girls. I've been lucky. But that's just passing the time. Killing time isn't the same thing as spending it."

"What are you doing now, with Michele?"

"I don't know." Jason flipped another steak. "I care about doing right by her. I can't lose her, but I don't know what to tell her. You're lucky, Sookie," he said. "You and Eric are both—" The porch door swung open. Michele was out first, Eric looming behind her. "—Different," Jason finished.

"I think you should tell her the truth," I said, fast as I could, since Michele and Eric headed straight to us. "I never told you, but Bill kept secrets from me. His lies hurt me as much as what he was hiding."

"If we're giving advice, I think you should ease up on yourself," Jason said, "and your man too, probably." I glanced over my shoulder. If Eric had heard, he gave no sign. I looked back at Jason and he raised his eyebrows at me, as if to say '_Well?'_

Well… maybe Jason was right. But he didn't know the full story. Jason didn't understand how dangerous Eric could be. Most of the time Eric and I spent together, we raced from one life-threatening situation to the next. The threats weren't Eric's fault, but he was always a major force bringing danger into my life. I was so deep in the supe world now, the target would still be on my back if I cut ties with Eric. And I didn't want to do that. I cared about him. I loved him. I wanted to wake up next to him, even though I'd smashed the light-tight shudders all over my front lawn. I sighed. On one level, I wondered what I was scared of. But when Eric wouldn't tell me basic things like who had written that letter, I didn't have to look far for the reasons to be afraid of life with him.

I dragged myself out of my head and back to the patio. Michele had apparently put Eric on drink duty. He carried a True Blood in one hand and two open beers in the other. He set one of the beers in front of me and pushed the other to Jason. Eric sat in the lawn chair next to me and draped his arm over my shoulders, avoiding the silver around my neck. I leaned into him. He felt almost warm.

"Thanks, man." Jason gave Eric a stiff, but not unfriendly, nod. "Glad you could make it." He took a swig of his beer as Michele dropped a bowl of fresh vegetables by the grill. Jason planted a kiss on her cheek. "Not drinking?"

"I'll have one with dinner," she said.

I shrugged off Eric's arm. There was something I had to do. "Jason, do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Down the hall to the right," he said, even though I had grown up in the house. I guess it was automatic.

Instead of going to the guest bathroom on the first floor I snuck upstairs to Jason's master bath. I hoped I was outside of Eric's range of hearing, but just in case I waited ten seconds, flushed the toilet, and then turned on the faucet. I took out my phone and dialed Fangtasia.

"Fangtasia, the bar with a bite." Thankfully Pam answered herself, so I didn't have to go through the dog-and-pony show of convincing one of the fangbangers I was worthy of speaking to a vampire.

"Hi Pam, it's Sookie."

"Hello my telepathic friend. Where's Eric?"

"He's with me, but I'd rather talk to you."

"Uh oh." Pam had a knack of knowing when I was going to get her in trouble.

I cut to the chase before she could hang up. "Pam, do you know any Roman vampires?" I wasn't dumb. That coin in the mystery letter had been old as dirt. I recognized Latin when I saw it, especially when it was next to something postmarked _ROME_. In my opinion, the whole unsigned letter-as-calling card shtick was heavy handed, but I figured that there must not be a whole lot of Roman vampires left in the world and when you'd clung to life for that long, you probably had an inflated sense of history.

"Of course," Pam said. "Eric's maker."

It was a real duh moment for me. Not only had Eric told me his maker was a legionnaire way back when, it made total sense. Who else would care enough about Eric to murder women with tangential connections to him? Why would Eric be so confident in his ability to sense impending danger? On one level, I could also understood why he hadn't wanted to tell me. The conflict seemed so personal. I felt almost guilty I'd gone behind his back to find out.

There was a knock on the door. "I've got to go," I hung up on Pam. "One minute." I called.

Eric opened the door and shut it behind him. Then locked it. That was his way of saying I was in trouble.

"You could have walked in on me."

"If you'd been doing what people usually do in here, I wouldn't have had to interrupt."

"You heard me from downstairs?"

"I heard the faucet." Eric reached over and turned it off. "No one lets it run this long."

So much for being sneaky. I was caught. But then again, so was Eric. "That letter was from your maker." Eric didn't say anything. His silence was as much of a yes as I would get. "You think he's trying to protect you?"

"He's reminding me of what's important."

I chewed that over, but I didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

Eric looked me up and down. "He's saying humans are disposable. Humans are a weakness." I shivered and I couldn't think of anything to say. Eric stared at me, seemingly deep in thought. "You are a weakness," he said. "I didn't realize how much of a weakness you are." I didn't want to listen to him badmouth me, but when I pushed past him to go downstairs, he grabbed my wrist. "They target you to hurt me because it does hurt me, Sookie. When they come after you, they come after me-- not just because of the bond, not just because of our connection. My feelings for you are--"

"Eric." I didn't know if I could hear him say it.

"Overwhelming. I love you, Sookie."

I froze. I felt trapped. I hadn't really let myself feel open to anyone since Bill, when I had given so much and seen it thrown back in my face. Eric on amnesia, who I still sometimes thought of as "my Eric," always had an expiration date. I'd let myself get drawn in because I knew it was a vacation and he'd have to go home. After that, I'd probably gotten the closest with Quinn, but I'd cut it off as soon as there was a possibility of getting hurt. I really hadn't wanted to fall for Eric-- I'd wanted to fuck him sure, but the emotions were always too problematic-- in general, and with Eric in particular. Between the bond and the marriage, I'd been bullied into forming a personal connection with him, but now that it was there and I was here and he was here and we were here-- god, I felt something unnamed within me break. I felt him. It wasn't the bond or any mumbo jumbo. I just felt painfully aware of him standing next to me, his hands on my face, and I let myself listen to him. It was the first time Eric had said he loved me out loud and I knew he believed what he was saying. I could almost believe it too. I thought of us laughing together. I remembered drinking water alone in his house and wishing he could be there with me, making love with him in my shower, listening to him talk about his human life in Fangtasia. I thought about his empty kitchen cabinets. I thought about the void I would feel if he wasn't there, if he were taken from me, and how much I'd come to just value his touch. I was already vulnerable. I'd already let him in. I couldn't control it anymore. Neither could he.

"I love you too." I said, and then I felt the bond. I felt joy and confusion, and I didn't know if the feelings were mine or his, but I decided a bit belonged to both of us. I loved Eric. But was it enough? It was because Eric and I felt something for each other that these dangers pursued us. His feelings made him vulnerable and made me the easy target for his enemies.

"We will beat him."

"How, Eric?"

"You and I will beat him," he repeated. Eric's lack of specifics worried me. He was always on top of the situation, so it scared me when he didn't have a plan. It was almost by saying it he seemed to be willing it to be true. He sounded desperate.

"Do we need to leave?" I said. "I can't endanger my brother—"

Eric buried his head in my hair. "Have your family evening. I will be able to sense him when he his close."

I put my hand around the back of his head and wrapped my fingers in his hair. "Eric, are you sure?"

"I promise you, Sookie. I will keep you safe."

I felt sadness wash over me and I realized what I though had been desperation in Eric's voice was really his feelings pulsing through the bond. I wanted to comfort him, but I felt timid. I wanted to tell him it would be all right, even though I wasn't sure it could be. "We'll figure it out together," I said. "You don't have to do this alone."

"He's two-thousand years old—"

"Sookie?" Michele's voice sounded from the bottom of the stairs. I realized with a start we had abandoned Michele and Jason. I wondered how long we had been up here. "Did you find the bathroom?"

"Yeah, thanks, I'll be right down," I called. I turned back to Eric. "Where did you tell them you were going?"

"Michele sent me for cloth napkins." It was strange Michele decided to send Eric upstairs in the thirty seconds he needed to find me. Eric must have seen something in the look on my face, so he added, "After I glamoured her."

Eric was like a dog you couldn't teach new tricks to. I suppressed a smile. On the grand scheme of glamour his latest one was pretty harmless. We'd always have these little fights, but as long as they were at this level, I couldn't force myself to care. "Napkins are in the linen closet." I pointed to the door at the end of the hall. "Wait two minutes. We can't walk down together." I caught his wrist. "Eric. I do love you." Saying it again felt easier.

He didn't say anything, but he smiled.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Michele was waiting for me. She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed me by the wrist, yanked me into the guest bathroom, and locked the door. "Sookie, I'm pregnant."

People don't usually take me by surprise, but sometimes even I get gobsmacked. My jaw hung loose and useless until I remembered I was supposed to make words with it. "Congratulations, Michele, that's—" I was going to say something positive, but she cut me off with,

"Horrible." She sank on the toilet and buried her face in her hands. "Jason and I aren't even—I mean, we've been together for a little more than a month and his poor wife and baby just passed, god bless them. I love Jason, but he's—" she trailed off.

Jason was Jason, but, "He's changed a lot." Or so it seemed. He cared deeply for Michele, but I didn't know if I should tell her if Jason hadn't done it himself. She had to know already. "Have you told him?"

"No," she said. "I need to. I'd been worried for a week and found out yesterday for sure. I thought we were being careful." Michele sighed. "Sookie, I'm sorry to be laying this on you, but you know Jason better than anyone and I don't know who else I can talk to."

Jason and I hadn't been close for a while, but I was touched by Michele's trust. "It's all right," I said. "Have you thought about—"

Michele shook her head. "I couldn't."

I took her hand. "Jason might be pleased."

"I love Jason, but I wasn't hoping for this, not so soon at any rate. I like to think everything happens for a reason, but that's hard to keep hold of when I'm faced with living through it. Everything is going to change."

"You'll make it. You have a good job, a house, a man who loves you." I was giving Michele a pep talk I sometimes used on myself. "You've got good sense."

"I need to tell Jason," Michele said.

"Sure," I agreed. And I hoped he would tell her about being a were. I was wishing the double confessions would make them both understanding of each other. "It will be all right. He'll listen."

Michele pulled me into a hug. "Thanks, Sookie."

"You take care of yourself," I said, "and the baby."

"Right, the baby," Michele said slowly, as if she were trying out the words. I stayed out of her head. I wanted to give her space to work through whatever she was going through.

"Thanks for telling me."

Michele shrugged. "It's going to be your niece or nephew."

I shook my head at the wonder of it. "So we're family." I was going to be an Aunt. Hadley's mom, my Aunt Linda, had always been kind to me, but for some reason the person who stuck in my head in that moment was Claudine. She had protected me, trusted me, always been there, loved me unconditionally. I hoped I would be half as good to Jason's kid as Claudine had been to me. I had felt more ambivalent towards Crystal's baby, maybe because I simply hadn't liked Crystal. I felt a little guilty about it, but there was no use dragging myself through past mistakes.

"Congratulations," I said, and pulled Michele into a hug. She seemed kind of startled, but returned it.

When Michele unlocked the bathroom door, I could see through the glass porch to the deck outside. Jason stood at the grill, talking to Eric, who was leaned back in a deck chair, sipping on True Blood like it was a beer. I suppose, in a strange way, all four of us were family now, at least following normal legal and social connections. It felt improbable, inexplicable, and strangely comfortable.

Michele followed my gaze. "They're good guys," she said.

"Yeah." How would Jason do as a father? How would Eric be as a husband? I couldn't say with certainty. I could try my best as an Aunt, but there were no guarantees as to how good that would be. What I did know is that Eric and Jason deserved the chance. So did I. So did everybody. Wow, I was in a mood tonight. "They're good guys," I agreed.

We went outside to join them. "—deer mostly," Jason was saying, "sometimes I hunt ducks."

"We used traps or spears when I was alive." Eric patted the chair next to him for me to sit down. "It before guns."

I raised my eyebrows at Michele. Hunting? I was surprised by the normalcy of their conversation.

"Shotguns work pretty well, mostly," Jason said. "If its small like, I don't know, a duck or a squirrel, sometimes there's not meat left but you can usually get a sausage or two out of a little guy." I rolled my eyes. The last time Jason hand-made a sausage was never, but Gran used to stuff her own boudins. "You've never hunted with a gun?"

"No." Eric draped his arm over the back of my chair. "Sookie was going to teach me how to shoot."

I didn't remember that conversation, so I figured Eric was either being polite or it was one of those things he had decided privately, but never told me. I wasn't Annie Oakley, but I'd be happy to share my limited skills with Eric. In truth, he really didn't need to know how to shoot: any person a gun could hurt was someone Eric could handle using his bare hands.

"You can come with me sometime. I taught Sookie everything she knows," Jason said, which was true.

Over Jason's shoulder, Michele rolled her eyes at me. She was thinking about men and their toys. I had to agree. Eric was a thousand years old and he loved his muscle car as much as he would if he were only 40 with a mid-life crisis.

"There's a shooting range off the interstate in Bossier City," Jason said, intent on setting up his play-date with Eric.

Eric seemed just as keen. "Next week?" I didn't know if he was just being polite or if the thrill of violence was enough to rope him in.

"The ladies can watch," Jason said, nodding at Michele.

She crossed her arms. "No way, Jason. It isn't a bowling alley. There's never any other spectators and those places give me the heebie-jeebies. All those angry old white guys with guns."

Eric and Jason exchanged a look. "No women," Eric said.

"No women," Jason agreed, laughing and turning back to the steaks. It was deeply weird to watch my brother and Eric interact, let alone get along.

After a couple more minutes of Jason and Eric ragging on Michele and me, I pulled Eric inside to help set the table, which ended up being me laying out place settings and Eric sitting at the head of the table watching. Michele stayed outside to help Jason take the steaks off the grill. I think we both wanted some couple-time.

I set a plate and silverware in front of Eric, even though he wasn't eating. "They're keeping secrets from each other." I told him.

Eric's eyes narrowed. I guessed a discussion of 'secrets' set off a warning bell for him. "Why are you telling me?"

"Just thinking through it."

I hoped, and believed, that Michele and Jason could sort out their problems if they came clean. I knew normal couples kept secrets from each other—with my condition, it was impossible not to be aware of it. Michele and Jason had secrets, and big ones, but their secrecy didn't seem malicious. They both wanted to let the other one in, but didn't know how. In a way, their struggles made me feel better about Eric and myself. "They want to come clean, so they both tried it out on me."

Eric smirked. "You're easy to confess to."

That was enough to make me stop setting the table. I put my hand on my hip. "Are you kidding?" I had to drag every little fact out of Eric, kicking and screaming. I was pretty sure he was flirting, because he definitely wasn't stating a fact.

He beckoned to me. "Lover, come here. I have a confession."

After glancing over my shoulder to make sure we couldn't be seen from the patio, I let him pull me onto his lap. "What?"

"I've been hard ever since you locked me in that bathroom." He put his hands on my hips and showed me the evidence. Warmth pooled in my chest, and dripped lower. I smiled at Eric and ran my hand up his thigh.

"Actually, Eric, you locked me in."

"Details," he said, and kissed my neck.

I heard the porch door squeak. I just had time to jump out of Eric's lap and adjust my skirt before Michele walked into the dining room on her way to the kitchen, balancing a plate of steaks. "Are you sure you don't want one, Eric?" Michele asked. "We could cook it extra rare." Michele didn't know what she was getting into. The steak would have to be rarer than raw, and even that would be too well done.

Eric was on his best behavior, too polite to refuse outright. "Just True Blood for now, thanks." When Michele breezed into the kitchen, he flashed me some fang. "You're my steak for later, cupcake."

My cheeks burned. I couldn't wait.

"Eric, could you help me reach something?" Michele called from the kitchen.

"Sure." Eric said, but he took his time standing up. He swept his eyes up, down, and over me. As for my part, I oogled him right back. There were some men who really knew how to wear a pair of pants and Eric could have taught them all lessons. I wanted to divest him of his trousers as soon as possible, and soon as possible seemed all too far away, considering there was a civilized 'adult' meal standing in between me and the goal I had designated as dessert.

"Later, lover," Eric said, reading my thoughts.

As he walked into the kitchen, Jason came through the back door, smelling of charcoal. Jason handed me his empty beer bottle, proving that Michele hadn't reformed all his bad habits.

"He sure is handy," Jason said, watching Eric pull glasses off the top shelf for Michele. "Who knew a vamp could be so normal?"

"Who knew we could be so normal?" I gestured to the dining room table. It was like Thanksgiving come early, all gussied up with wine glasses, cloth napkins, and Gran's good china.

"She'd be proud, right?" Jason was thinking of Gran.

"I hope so."

----

_A/N: Belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO._

_Calm before the storm! Thanks for reading and for the reviews. _


	15. Dinner, Part 2

After a quick round of grace—during which Eric did not spontaneously combust or start bleeding from the ears, take that, Fellowship of the Sun—the four of us tucked into the feast Michele and Jason prepared. I filled my plate with steak and macaroni salad and Eric drained his second True Blood. Since drinking only required one hand, Eric had ten free fingers and, consequently, a chance to cause trouble. Never one to waste an opportunity to fondle me, Eric placed his free hand on my bare knee and began a pilgrimage up my inner thigh. The little trek was fine with me because 1) it felt pretty damn good and 2) only us two knew.

Even though Eric was up to his old tricks under the table, above grade, he was as bland, polite, and charming than I'd ever seen him. He kept the small talk rolling: Eric asked Jason about his truck and Michele about vacation bible school. He asked Jason about beer and Michele about her mother. He asked Jason about football and Michele about working in Monroe. Eric was racking up all kinds of brownie points with the in-laws, and with me. I don't mean to flatter myself, but I suspected the 'Sookie points' were the motivating factor behind Eric's polite inquiries. Before tonight, I hadn't seen him express any interest in sports, beer, the bible, whatever, and here he was, waxing poetic with Jason about LSU football.

The little performance convinced me Eric knew how to act like a 'normal' person and chose not to. I really didn't mind. As often as Eric gave me a headache—and it was often—I'd grown to value his weird abruptness. He never minced words. I can't speak for the rest of the country, but in the South, a lot of people bite their tongues and sugarcoat problems for the sake of social equilibrium. It's the dark side of our famed hospitality. Eric had flaws—as do I, as does anyone—but meekness was never one of them.

Eric rounded out his audition for 'model guest' by asking Michele how she liked working as a dental hygienist. When Michele confessed she liked the work, but not her office due to problems with the boss, Eric suggested she open a firm for vampire clients. At first I thought he was kidding, but when he took his hand off my thigh to gesture and emphasize a point, I realized it was an actual suggestion. Neither Jason, Michele, nor I—for that matter—knew how to respond.

Michele flushed red. "Gosh, I never thought of that. Do you all need dentists?"

Eric shrugged. "Dentists, no, but we could use cleanings, certainly. Vampires are vain about their teeth." Eric smiled, showing all of his. It was a little creepy, because although he said 'teeth,' everyone at the table knew he really meant 'fangs.'

Michele took it well. I could almost see the wheels in her head turning. "I do teeth cleanings all day."

Jason, for his part, smelled money, so of course he wanted to know more. "You think there could be a market for this?"

Eric shrugged. "Why not? It would fill a niche." He pulled a card out of his wallet and tossed it across the table to Michele. "I own a few businesses in the Shreveport area. Give me a call if you want to talk seriously."

Michele squinted at Eric's card. I didn't know how I felt about Eric and Michele going into business together—from the look on Michele's face, neither did she—but I couldn't fault Eric for the generous offer. Neither Jason nor Michele could be aware of how well positioned Eric was to set them up in a successful Shreveport-area business, especially one that catered to the vampire community. "Thank you," Michele said to Eric, nodding at the card.

"It would have to be a discrete operation, for safety reasons, and most vampires are sensitive about their teeth."

Jason looked two parts grossed out and one part intrigued. "Why? Because of your—" He pointed at his incisors, instead of saying 'fangs.'

"No," Eric said. "Most of us were born before dentistry and orthodontics. By modern standards, vampire teeth are bad."

Beyond in-the-moment exclamations like 'oh god, Andre, don't bite me,' or 'oh yes, Eric, please do,' I'd never considered vampire teeth that much. Most of the vampires I knew didn't have noticeably bad teeth—or rather, teeth so bad they distracted from their overall appearance. In general, vampires seemed to trend above average as far as attractiveness. I figured would-be makers turned good-looking people. Maybe the above-average vampires I'd run across also had above-average teeth.

Jason and I were born plenty after orthodontics, but our parents didn't have money for braces. We'd still turned out all right. Jason's bottom teeth skewed left, but you'd never know it until he opened his mouth. I had a little gap between my front teeth, but it wasn't that noticeable. I'd been too concerned with the things going on inside my head—hearing other people's thoughts, for instance—that I'd never worried much about it. Eric, on the other hand, was one of those rare people born with naturally even teeth. It was even more remarkable considering that he 'd been a warrior when he was alive and had probably spent a lot of his time getting whacked in the face. Eric's teeth made a perfect row when he smiled, as he was doing now.

Michele was wondering how long before orthodontics Eric was born and agonizing over whether or not it would be rude to bring it up. "If you don't mind me asking—"

"I don't mind," Eric said. I had to bite down on a smirk. Eric didn't mind if she asked, because he wouldn't answer if Michele's question rubbed him the wrong way.

"How old are you?"

"I am a thousand," Eric said. "Round about. I didn't have a calendar in the early days."

Jason was impressed. "Shit. Like three zeros?"

Eric almost frowned and I could tell he didn't want to repeat himself, so I stepped in. "Like a long time."

"How long have you been in Louisiana?" Jason asked.

The battery of questions made me feel awkward for Eric, myself, and Jason and Michele, but all for different reasons. I felt for Eric most because he was on display. I knew how private vamps could be in general and Eric in particular. With outsiders, Eric preferred being feared to being understood, being venerated to being appreciated, being obeyed to belonging. That throne in Fangtasia set the tenor for the way he usually interacted with other people, humans in particular. Eric was attempting to be open with Jason and Michele, which I appreciated more I could tell him. He was breaking habits.

I felt awkward for Jason and Michele because thinking about a thousand-year-old vampire, especially a thousand-year-old vampire that was legally their in-law, was beyond the things they usually dealt with. A thousand 'like three zeroes' was a legitimate question. Eric's age was a fact, but that didn't make it easy to swallow.

I felt awkward myself because I was the agent that brought everyone together. Without me, Eric wouldn't be sitting across from Jason and Michele and because of that, I felt personally responsible for how the evening went. I desperately wanted Eric, Michele, and Jason to feel comfortable and, although I didn't want to delude or get ahead of myself, maybe even like each other.

All that being said, I was also curious how long Eric had lived in Louisiana. I wasn't sure if Eric would answer or deflect, and to my surprise, he chose the straight and narrow. "I moved to Shreveport in 1980."

I had been born in 1982, so Eric had been the Sherriff of Area 5 my entire life. I didn't know how I felt about it, even though Bill told me as much the last time we talked. On a basic level, it made me think like Eric was old and I was young. I wondered to what degree the very fact of our relationship was a change for Eric. If Eric had been vampire politicking in the Shreveport area for as long as I'd been on earth, the fact that he'd disrupted his (un)life for me was a bigger concession than I'd realized.

Michele got into the swing of Eric's story. "What did you do before the Revelation?"

"I was an administrator," he said. "Like your city councilmen." I'd never heard being Sherriff sound so bland.

Michele's next question surprised me. "What is it like to live so long?"

It must have surprised Eric too, because he deflected her with a question. "What is it like to live as you do?"

"Well, I just live, every day—"

"So do I."

"But a thousand years? That's ten times what any lucky normal person could hope for."

Eric looked at her. He was quiet for a second or two, but I could see the cogs turning. I knew he was trying to decide how much to reveal, or maybe just what to say. "I think—" Michele nodded at him to continue and I found myself mimicking her. I was really interested what Eric's response. We hardly ever talked like this when we were by ourselves. Part of it was we always found other ways to keep busy, in the bed, in the shower, on my old kitchen table, you name it, but also, the stakes were also too high. I was afraid of what Eric might reveal to me and what it could mean for our relationship: he'd lived a thousand years and there was a solid chance he'd live a thousand more. As Michele said, I'd be lucky to have a tenth of that. That difference was a problem no amount of talking or love or good intentions could rectify.

Eric finally stopped chewing on his thoughts and spit something out. "I do not think about it. I lived before I knew what a clock was, and now there are computers."

I was surprised that was all he had to say—clocks and computers. "Bill Compton has a wii," Jason volunteered.

"Bill wastes his time." Eric would never let a potential dig at Bill slide. "I keep busy. I like Shreveport, I can keep it to myself."

I'm pretty sure by 'it,' Eric literally meant 'Shreveport.' Almost nobody cared about Northern Louisiana, which allowed Eric to be the unquestioned little ruler of Area 5. I wondered if his fixation on territory was a Viking thing. Even that eyesore of a throne in the middle of Fangtasia sort of seemed medieval, like something I'd seen in _Lord of the Rings_ or _Conan the Barbarian_.

As if he could tell I was thinking about medieval he-men, Eric slipped his hand up my skirt and traced a circle on the inside of my thingh. I twined my fingers in his ran my thumb over his remarkable thousand-year old calluses. Eric turned to Michele. "I have only ever lived like this," he said. "So I can't compare it. I don't know how to answer your question."

If Eric couldn't compare it, maybe we could. "How would you describe our days?" I asked Michele. The conversation wasn't doing much for Jason. Eyes glazing over, he refilled his wine glass. I didn't really care.

"I don't know. They are what they are." Michele looked over and Eric and laughed. "They can feel long, but I'm sure that doesn't mean a lot to you."

"My days are the same as yours, I've just had more of them," Mr. Practical said.

Eric's days (or, more accurately, nights) weren't really 'the same' as Michele's and mine. First of all, he didn't age, at least not physically. Secondly, Eric knew his time was unlimited. These were two key points I didn't feel like discussing them in front of Michele, since Eric and I had yet to work through those differences ourselves.

Another way in which Eric's days weren't 'the same' was that he drank blood. On the grand scheme of it, the blood was less of a problem for me than the other two. It was sort of like being married to a vegan: getting dinner together was always inconvenient and people had no idea what to serve once they'd invited you over, but other than that, we fumbled our way through it. The blood thing had even become (more than) a little exciting when Eric and I were in the right situation, if you know what I mean and I'm sure you do.

I realized Eric and I hadn't had a talk like this in, well, maybe ever. At least since that night in Fangtasia when he told me about his human life, or when we'd lay in front of my fire when he'd lost his memory. To be fair to us, contending with a hostile media, psychotic killers, and Eric's vampire daddy's issues hadn't left a lot of time for heart-to-hearts.

"Thanks for having us over," I said to Michele and Jason. We were only halfway through the meal, but the urge to say something and thank them for the time out of the chaotic whirlwind that had become my life was irrepressible.

Jason and Michele looked at each other and Michele laughed. "Of course, Sookie."

I felt awkward being forward, but I kept going anyway. "After that article ran in the paper, I thought it would be really tough, and it has been, but this really helps. I guess I just want to say thanks for giving me," I looked over at Eric and corrected myself, "for giving us, a chance anyway."

"Sook, I'm your brother," Jason said. "You know I don't care what the papers say about you."

Michele leaned forward. "You can take your thank you and stuff it. I know what its like to have people talk behind your back. My momma used to drink." Jason put his arm around the back of her chain and Michele shook her head, as if to clear it. "Anyway, this is nothing. I wanted to meet the both of you."

Before I had a chance to say anything more, the phone rang. When Michele darted into the kitchen to grab it, I leaned forward to whisper to Jason.

"She's a good one."

He smiled and nodded as Michele answered the phone with "Stackhouse residence."

There was a moment of two of silence, and then Michele put down the receiver. "Heavy breathing and a hang-up."

"Maybe it's a wrong number," Jason said.

"Or a creep," Michele said as she rejoined us.

My cell buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket. The caller ID read RESTRICTED. I looked over at Eric, who'd gone still. I answered. "Hello?"

The line went dead.

All three of them stared at me. I closed my phone. "Wrong number. That's weird."

I didn't really think it was weird. I thought it was deliberate. But I didn't want to scare Jason or Michele by revealing that Eric's vampire daddy was stalking us with intent to kill. I wondered if Eric and I should leave. I couldn't put Jason or Michele in danger.

Jason laughed. "Two wrong numbers? What are the odds?"

It was as if he jinxed us. At that moment, Eric's phone buzzed. A second later, mine did too. It was a text. We looked at each other. "Pam?" I asked.

Eric shook his head. "Not likely."

Michele, bless her, sensed that something was up. She picked up her glass and grabbed mine too. "I'm going to do a refresher on the water. Jason, Eric, you want anything?"

Eric had opened his phone. He was reading the text and was too distracted to be polite. "Just blood."

"Jason, why don't you help me find some more True Blood?" Shooting us a curious look, Jason tailed Michele into the kitchen. I knew mysterious messages weren't a usual dinner-guest thing and I appreciated Michele giving us our space.

I flipped open my cell. An icon of an envelope flashed at me.

TXT FROM RESTRICTED

I clicked on it. It was a grainy picture of the 'Welcome to Bon Temps' sign. There was no written message, but the photo alone was enough. The unmarked picture was the same kind of style as the unsigned letter from Rome Flipping Georgia. "Is he always this campy?" I asked Eric. I felt a dull dread in the pit of my stomach and being snide was the only was I could think to minimize it.

What worried me more than the text was that the 'Welcome to Bon Temps' sign was about ten minutes away from Jason's. I didn't have to look at Eric's phone to know he'd gotten the same image.

"Do not say campy," Eric said. "He has no sense of humor."

"He called the house."

"He knows we're here." Eric snapped his phone shut.

"Can you feel him?" I didn't know how those vampire things worked. Up until now, I'd had no interest in figuring it out.

"Apparently not," Eric said. "I thought I would, but he's old and very powerful"

"We have to leave," I whispered. We still had half a dinner and a full dessert course ahead of us, but we couldn't stay and put Michele and Jason in danger.

Eric nodded.

"What do we say?" Michele was pregnant. How could I even begin to tell her that we may have lured a serial killer to her house?

Eric leaned close to me, so we were almost cheek-to-cheek. I shivered and had to fight the urge to pull him into a desperate hug. The text had kick-started my heart into panicked pounding and I craved a reassuring touch. "Let me do this my way." Eric said.

I nodded. He touched my cheek with his hand, then stood up and walked towards the kitchen. I tailed him.

Eric stopped in the threshold. Michele and Jason were bent over the kitchen sink, deep in conversation. Michele was crying. Jason looked over Eric's shoulder to me. "Sookie, I'm going to be a father."

My throat felt dry. My happiness for Jason was fouled by dread. We had to leave the house as soon as possible. I hope Eric's maker would follow us and pass by Jason, Michele, and the baby. "Congratulations, Jason." I said, feeling like I was reciting the words more than saying them.

Eric walked into the kitchen. He approached Jason and Michele and then kept going, stepping into their personal space. Jason gave him a curious look and stepped back as Eric took Michele's hand. "Michele," Eric said, his voice low and intense. Michele jerked her eyes away from Jason and stared at Eric, slack-jawed. "Sookie and I had a wonderful time, but now we have to go."

"You had a wonderful time," she repeated, drawing out the words as if was trying to remember what they meant.

Jason freaked out. "Man, what the fuck?"

Eric turned his glamour on Jason. "Sookie and I have to leave. You and Michele will go to bed. Do not answer the door tonight."

"Okay," Jason said, as if he were a child.

"Good boy," Eric turned back to Michele. "We've been here for hours. We had a good time. We finished your pie."

"You liked it?" Michele asked. Her voice was sluggish. "It's a family recipe."

"It was wonderful. First time I'd eaten in a thousand years. Now go to sleep, you're tired."

"Leftovers," she said, and pointed to the pristine pie, sitting on the countertop, waiting to be served. "I'll send you home with—"

I dug around for a tupperware container, because Michele didn't seem capable in her state, and helped her shovel a good half of the pie into it. She closed the lid and pressed the tupperware into Eric's hands. "Since you liked it." Michele yawned. "Show you to… door." Even glamoured, her politeness won out.

"Do it now," Eric said. We stood up as Michele stumbled to her feet. She walked towards the door, swaying as if she were drunk. Jason tagged along behind her.

"Goodbye, Michele, Jason," I said, but they were both fixated on Eric, following him like zombies. "Could you ask them to sleep in their bed upstairs?" I said to him. I feared that Michele and Jason would collapse on the floor as soon as we left.

"Go to your bed upstairs and sleep," Eric said.

"Dishes—" Michelle said.

"Dishes then bed." Eric's tone didn't allow disagreement.

I opened the front door. "Thanks for the pie." Michele and Jason didn't acknowledge me. They stared at Eric.

"Tell me I am not welcome in your house," Eric said.

"You are not welcome in my house," Jason repeated. Instantly, something yanked Eric backward over the threshold. It was as if he had been pulled by invisible rope. I stepped out of the light to stand next to him.

"Don't invite anyone in tonight." Eric said. "Do not answer the door."

Jason and Michele stared at him, struck dumb. But they both nodded, then Michele closed the door.

It was instantly darker. The only light was from the street lamps. Eric turned towards me. His fangs were out. He handed me the tupperware of pie. "Sookie, you have to rescind my invitation to your home."

Panic hit me and I said the first thing that popped into my head. "No." I didn't want to leave Eric. I wasn't dumb enough to think I could protect him, but I felt better thinking we would to face Eric's maker together.

"We don't have time for this. Do it." Eric loomed over me, but I tried to loom back. Then my feet left the ground. I felt air rush me by and something solid slammed into my back. After a second, I realized Eric had me pinned against the side of Jason's house. My feet dangled inches from the ground and his hand was around my throat. I dropped Michele's tupperware. Eric wasn't hurting me, but his hand was tight enough for me to feel pressure. When he talked, his fangs glinted in the streetlight. "Sookie, if you don't rescind my invitation, I will make you do it."

We were right below the kitchen. Overhead I could hear the faint murmur of Jason and Michelle's voices and the indistinct hum of their thoughts. Light drifted out through their window.

"Let me go and I'll do it." Eric's fangs retracted. He loosened his hold on my throat and I slid down to touch the ground.

"I'm sorry," Eric said. I nodded, rubbing my throat. "He is my maker. He can compel me. You aren't safe, because I'm not safe. Now please say it."

"Eric, I rescind your invitation from my home."

"Now do Pam's."

"Why Pam—"

"She does what I say. I do what he says, so she does what he says. Do it."

"I rescind Pam's invitation to my home."

Eric pressed his corvette keys into my hand and the ziplock baggy that contained his other silver chain. "Just in case," he said. I tucked it into my pocket. "I want you to drive to your house. Fast. Do not let anyone in. If you need help, call Claude. Keep Sam, Calvin and Alcide away. A were won't be strong enough to do much good. If the worst happens, call Victor."

"Victor?"

"After last night, he owes you. When this blows over, we'll cut a deal with him. It's better for him to have you here in Louisiana than off in Vegas with Felipe."

Eric gave me a push and I took off, running to the corvette. When I got there, Eric stood in front of the drivers' side door. I bit back a scream. "You startled me."

"No matter what I say to you, don't invite me in."

"Eric—" I hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, and the situation was tearing me up inside. I didn't want anything to happen to him. The feeling was so intense it felt like a physical pain, a stitch in my side. I wanted to stay with Eric, even as he insisted we couldn't, and even as I knew he was right.

He kissed me, fast and hard, raking his teeth over my lips and backing me up against the corvette. I grabbed his shirt and growled into his mouth. I felt warm all over and my heart was throbbing because I wanted to stay and knew I really had to go.

"We'll talk later," he said, grazing my lip with his fangs as he broke off the kiss.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around him. "I'll hold you to that."

Eric ran his thumb over my lips, to wipe off the blood, and vanished into the night. I slumped against the corvette and let myself look around for the first time. Crickets were chirping, the streetlights were on, someone had whacked Jason's mailbox with a baseball bat so it stood crooked. It looked like any other street in any other neighborhood in any other town. If only Eric and I could be on another street, in another town. But even if we were, Appius would have followed us there.

I needed to stop moping. I needed to move. I slipped into Eric's drivers' seat and turned on the ignition.

I didn't have time to think before something slammed me into the windshield, knocking the wind out of me. I opened my mouth and nothing came in or out. I felt like I was drowning. For several seconds I just felt empty, gaping, until air rushed back into my lungs with the force of another punch. I wondered if I had been hit by an airbag until my attacker moved and I realized it was alive. Then, the thing was on me again. I tried to fight back, but it was too dark to see and it was too fast. It plowed into my side. I hit the gear stick, then the rear window, then I realized I was in the passenger seat and I heard a click: my seat belt closing.

Something wet trickled down the side of my forehead. Blood. I must have banged my head in the scuffle. It didn't even hurt yet. I was too shocked. My heart thudded in my ears. I both did and did not want to look and see who—what—now occupied the drivers' seat of Eric's corvette.

It came to me. The thing leaned over the gearshift and for a second, it hovered next to me. Then, it closed the distance between us and began to lick the blood off my forehead. I squirmed. I stared at the window, the trees, the lawn, Jason's house, anything but the thing nearest me. The car was silent except for the scrape of his tongue and my raspy breathing. The light switched off in Michele and Jason's kitchen. They were going upstairs to bed. Good. At least they would be safe.

The thing—who I knew had to be Eric's maker—if I was really going to honest with myself and acknowledge how fucked I was, finished licking my head and leaned back in the drivers' seat.

"Fairy," he said. "That explains a little."

I didn't say anything. My throat had dried out and seized up. This was like Neave and Lochlin all over again. This time, I knew Eric couldn't rescue me without risking becoming an instrument against me. Bill was too sick to walk. Niall was in some other world. I was on my own.

Eric's maker restarted the ignition. I hated to grace him with a positive adjective, knowing what he'd done to Eric and those five other women and who knows however many countless victims, but he really looked 'distinguished.' He could have hosted _Masterpiece Theatre_. He appeared to be about 40, but I knew he was much older.

He stared at me. I figured he was taking my measure or maybe just scoping out the best place to bite. To my surprise he took out his phone. He pressed one number, a speed dial.

I watched as he put the phone to his ear. Half a minute ticked by. I figured it was another silent creeper call or that it had gone to voicemail. When he started talking, I realized it was the latter. "She dressed you like a human. Eating human food at her human table. Are you her pet?"

The call to Eric complete, he pulled us out of Jason's driveway, wheels screeching.

----

_You all can predict what problems Sookie's going to be dealing with next chapter. She's got two silver chains and her wits against a pissed-off 2000-year-old vamp. And will Eric be able to help? Will Eric even figure out what's going on? What does Appius want with Sookie anyway? _

_Two more chapters left, both coming before _Dead in the Family_. Thanks for reading and for your reviews!_

_Belongs to Charliane Harris and HBO ._


	16. Friday Night

Appius treated Bon Temps's one-lane roads like a one-man speedway, accelerating on turns and zipping by stop signs like he was trying to knock them off their posts. He swerved from left to right to left again—plowing into the curb, the grass, and the traffic median. In another life, he could have been a NASCAR driver. I gripped the passenger door as Appius barreled through a red light and took the turn to Hummingbird Lane at a 90-degree angle, sending Eric's tires over the curb before thumping us down again. The Hummingbird Lane exit made me figure my house was the next stop on our itinerary. I didn't know why Appius was taking me home, but his reasons couldn't be good. Maybe he wanted to dump my body in its natural habitat. I shuddered. I needed a plan like Portia Bellefluer Vick needed Xanax.

Between the bond and Appius's stalker phone call, I figured Eric knew I was in capital-T trouble. That being said, if he tried to (literally) fly in and play hero, he'd make the hot water even hotter. As I thought through it, I figured I didn't have to worry about Eric party crashing. He wouldn't do anything stupid. Eric had flaws, but a martyr-complex was not one of them. If anything, he erred too far in the self-preservation direction. He would never put himself in a situation where he was guaranteed to lose.

In short, Eric wasn't coming. I had to handle this myself.

Appius took one hand off the wheel and rolled down the driver's side window. I decided his joy ride had gone on long enough. "Now you're driving one-handed?" I said, before I could police my mouth.

"Yes," he said as he wrapped the end of his shirtsleeve over his hand. Then he grabbed Eric's silver chain off my neck and tossed it out the open window. He moved at vampire speed so I didn't even realize what he was doing until it was over. There was no way I could have stopped him. Although he had deprived me of one weapon, Appius didn't know about Eric's other silver chain in the ziplock in my pocket. I decided not to touch it, in case he noticed the movement. If I picked the right moment to startle or restrain him, maybe I could make a break for it. It wasn't a full plan, but at least it was something.

Appius rolled up the driver's window and stared at me. We turned off the main road, towards my house. The breeze had mussed his salt-and-pepper coiffure. "You know you've ruined him. You make him soft."

"I don't make him anything. He doesn't take orders."

"Maybe not from you." Appius's fangs poked over his lips as he smiled. "But he heels well." So that's where the phrase came from. The knowledge made me shiver. Eric had told me some pretty horrible things about Appius, but I wondered about the full extent of their relationship. What had Appius forced Eric to do? I didn't want to think about Eric being subservient to anyone, let alone a monster. I knew how independent he was. It couldn't have been easy for him. Listening to Appius talk about controlling Eric, I realized how much Eric came through for me with Andre. At Rhodes I had thought of Eric as the lesser of two evils, but whatever annoyance I felt being bonded to him didn't approach the agony it would have been with Andre. Now that I knew Eric better, I suspected his first-hand experience with Appius may have played a part in his decision to step in.

"I think you're pathetic." I said to Appius. "No better than an animal. You tortured Eric. You kill women for fun."

"Not for fun," Appius actually sounded offended. "Your view is limited. You are what, a quarter century? I've lived that 80 times over."

Now I was offended. "Killing is wrong, you freak. My age doesn't have anything to do with it."

It wasn't the most eloquent put-down, but I knew he got my point because he bared his fangs at me. "You humans go so quickly, what does it matter if I speed it along? Be grateful to die for a purpose."

"That's the worst thing I've ever heard." I thought of my brother, my brother's unborn child, my friends, Sam, Tara, and of course, Eric. I may not have the best job. I may not chase the highest aspirations-- curing cancer, for instance, solving world hunger-- but I could still find enough reason to live in the people around me and the relationships I had. "My life has a purpose already, thanks. So did those other women's."

"No," he said. "Your life, their lives, it's unimportant. In a hundred years, who will remember?" Appius paused and stared out the window. "Eric would be lost without me, lost to history and lost to you. I saw him and I saved him." He scowled as we turned into my driveway. "I do not understand why he is drawn to you. You understand so little. You are prejudiced against us. You elevate an inferiority, human life, perhaps because the unknown frightens you."

My fear of becoming a vampire wasn't why I thought Appius was wrong. He was wrong because he was a killer and he didn't see the harm in it. Appius was used to being a parasite, living outside society and taking whatever he wanted. He'd forgotten how to give, or for that matter, how to live. He accused me of being afraid of the unknown, but there was a lot he didn't want to know, first on the list being something we'd all have to face sooner or later. "Sure it frightens me. Doesn't death frighten you?"

"I am death," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "No you aren't. You're a very old person. Maybe I'm scared of dying, but it doesn't paralyze me. You've frozen yourself. You've taken yourself out of life and you inflict your condition on everyone else. You didn't save Eric. You collected him."

Appius's fangs clicked down. "What can you give Eric? He's lived your life 40 times over. He has beaten life. You are still trapped."

"I'm not trapped," I said, which was funny, because, as Appius had locked me in the corvette, I was literally 'trapped,' but not in the way he meant. "You're trapped. Two thousand years must be a really long and lonely time, if this is how you try to reconnect with your child."

"Get out of the car." Appius snarled. I didn't want to wait inside the corvette, but I didn't want to do what he said even more, so I stayed put. Defiance was a mistake. It took ten seconds for him to shovel me out of the passenger seat, and another half a minute to duct tape my wrists and ankles so I wouldn't scram. I struggled, but he moved so quickly, it ended up being wasted energy.

Appius got back into the corvette, revved the engine, and plowed into the side of my house, right around where my kitchen was located. Eric's corvette crumpled. My poor kitchen had taken so much abuse. An arsonist torched it less than a year ago. He had also been trying to kill me because of my relationship with Eric. If I were smart, I probably would have taken that as a sign and cut ties with Eric. Now with the bond and the marriage, it was too late. And I didn't want to break it off. Eric had a place in my life. He had earned it and I needed him there. I wanted to see him and fight with him and listen to what he had to say and let him change my mind and change his mind and wake up next to him every night or morning, the specific time dictated by whatever ridiculous, no-doubt headache-inducing, schedule we would have to work out. Why had I thrown Hadley's light-tight shudders out my window? I glanced across the lawn. They were still there, a pile of broken splinters, lying in front of Gran's old gardenia bush.

Appius revved the engine and drove the corvette forward a few feet. My new aluminum siding buckled and I could suddenly see my kitchen table and fridge. "Shit!" I yelled, even though I hated cursing out loud and the property damage was the least of my problems. Appius was on me in a second, a cut on his forehead healing. He scooped me into his arms and threw me over his shoulder. I thought about pounding his back with my bound fists, but decided to save my energy for a last getaway. Eric's silver was burning a hole in my pocket—metaphorically. "That's my house."

Appius slammed me into the drivers' seat of Eric's smoking, destroyed corvette, and to add insult to injury, clicked in the seatbelt. "He is my child." Then he bit me.

When Eric took blood from me, it was always part of a larger program. In other words, he made sure I was good and gussied up. If I wasn't begging for it, I was always really, really ready. Appius wanted me the opposite of ready. He wanted it to hurt and, in that, he succeeded: the bite out-and-out burned. He literally tore my throat open—and then I had to endure the sound of his slurping and the feel of his lips wriggling against my wound like little worms. It was a thousand times worse than when Bill attacked me in the car trunk in Jackson. I tried to push Appius away, but he took enough blood—I lost enough blood—to make my head spin. My arms flopped to my sides and I had trouble summoning the energy to move them. I felt drunk.

"Where is your phone?" Appius asked, detaching from my throat. His chin was red. I couldn't speak. It worked out okay because I didn't want to answer him. Appius dug his fingers into my jacket pockets, where he should have in the first place, and pulled out my cell. I knew what he was going to do before he started typing the numbers.

"Don't." I found words as Appius dialed Eric's number. He dropped the phone in my lap and made short work of duct taping my mouth shut and then taping the seatbelt closed so I couldn't make a break for it.

Then he was gone.

My cell vibrated and jumped up and down in my lap. Appius had left it on speaker. Fucker. It rang once, twice, three times, then clicked over to voicemail. Eric had set his answering machine to an anonymous phone company-provided recording, spoken by an automated lady with a British accent: you've reached such and such number, leave a message at the tone, etc. I struggled, tried to make any noise, but between the duct tape and the throbbing pain in my neck I didn't get far. What I wanted to say was "Stay away from here and send help," but it came out as a groan.

The call clicked off. I tried to tell myself it was good that Eric didn't answer. Hopefully he was far away. Maybe he was already as far as Shreveport. Maybe he had called for reinforcements. I hoped to god the cavalry wouldn't be Victor, but I would take just about any help right now.

There was a knock on the window. I looked over.

It was Eric.

Fuck.

He motioned for me to duck. I tried to motion for him to leave but with all the tape, my movements didn't look like much of anything, whereas his were pretty clear, so I defaulted and went with what he told me to do. I put my head between my knees like in tornado drills back in elementary school as Eric broke the window of the corvette. Shards of glass fell over me.

Eric reached through the broken window to open the door. Within seconds, he was on me, in a very different way than Appius. He ran his hands down my arms. I could feel his anger through the bond. That was my guy. He ripped the tape on my hands and feet, then yanked it off my mouth. "Get out of here," I said. "It's a trap. He's still here." My face stung. Ripping the tape off was worse that any Band-Aid.

"I know," Eric said. "I couldn't leave you."

I goggled at him. He was being was sweet. And stupid. Eric was rarely sweet and never stupid. "Eric, please leave."

He ran his hand through my hair, staring at me intently. "Sookie, you know I won't do that." He had this misty look on his face that seemed totally alien and out of place.

I blinked at him.

Then I got it. The soppiness was an act. Why Eric was hamming it up like a regular Cyrano, I couldn't figure, but it gave me f hope that he had a plan. "I knew you'd come for me," I said, tossing my arms around his neck for Appius's benefit. And because I could really use a hug. "I love you," I whispered, for Eric's benefit this time, and for my own. "I'm sorry about your car."

Eric laughed, for real this time. "It's just a car." He nuzzled into the side of my neck and licked my throat. Normally, I'd say this wasn't the time, but I needed some of his coagulating mojo. Appius's hickey from hell hurt worse than a scab made of cayenne. His Florence Nightingale stint complete, Eric kissed my ear. I was minutes away from being ten pints shy of a circulatory system and I still had to smack down the bedroom shivers.

"Thanks," I said.

"Of course." Eric put his hands on my shoulders and stared at me. I felt like he was trying to burn a hole in me with his eyes. "My job is here." He spoke the words slowly. He obviously wasn't talking about licking my face. Other than the fact Eric didn't say goopey stuff, the urgency I felt through the bond alerted me that he wasn't spouting romantic claptrap for its sake alone. I tried to puzzle out what he meant: _My job is here._

It was right in front of me, hiding in plain sight: he literally meant what he said.

Eric had a job. And If he had a job, so did I. It was classic division of labor. "We're a team," I said, to let him know I understood. When Eric said "job," I was almost certain he was offering himself as a diversion. He couldn't take on Appius himself, but he might be able to wean enough of his attention away to give me a chance to escape, call for help, think of some way to kill him, etc. That was my "job." In all my time knowing Eric, except for rescuing me from the fairies, he had never gone out on a limb, expect to protect his own skin. And here he was, offering to be bait so I could escape with my life. It made me want to fall in love with him all over again.

A plan worked its way into my head. I couldn't say anything explicit. Appius was out there, somewhere close, listening to every word we said. For the first time I ever, I wished Eric could read my mind. "I'm sorry I threw my shudders at you." I said, hoping Eric would get my hint and Appius wouldn't.

Something flashed in Eric's eyes, and he smiled at me. "I'm not. You know you can do anything to me," he said, concealing his meaning by kissing the line of my chin. He was giving me permission to hurt him.

Hopefully I wouldn't have to.

Then he was thrown off of me.

I heard a crash, maybe Eric hitting the ground, but I couldn't see much. Appius said something in a vaguely German-sounding language I didn't recognize. I wondered if it was Eric's native language. "I've forgotten nothing." Eric replied, in English. I was about twenty feet away from the pile of shudders in my front yard. If I ran, maybe I could—

Then Appius was right next to me, hand around my elbow. "So you want your woman to understand us?" Eric didn't say anything, which I thought was a wise move. Appius walked into my lawn—away from the shudders—dragging me behind him. I presumed we were approaching Eric. "You are wrong, but because you are my child, I forgive you."

"Thank you," Eric said, whether to pacify Appius or out of some long-buried habit, I couldn't tell.

"You are a vampire, but this human woman sucks life out of you. I did not turn you to be a pet. "

Eric didn't say anything. Was he listening? Could he be buying Appius's bullshit? Or was he afraid of what to say next? My heart thumped in my chest.

"What are you, Eric?" Appius asked.

Eric didn't say anything. Appius repeated the question. Something close to humiliation flashed through the bond. "I am a vampire," Eric finally said, somewhere out there in the darkness.

Appius's voice went soft. "Give up this charade," he said. "Why do you pretend to care for her?"

I wanted to say Eric wasn't pretending, but defending our relationship to Appius more than I already had seemed stupid in the extreme, so I stayed silent. So did Eric, which made me nervous. Was his silence part of the act? Or, on some level, did he believe what Appius was saying? It had taken him long enough to admit his feelings for me, even to himself and even after we had been bonded.

I reached into the bond—it was a soup of anger, confusion, fear, and shame. Eric usually projected such confidence, his shame felt foreign to me. However, I recognized it from my own experience. It reminded me of the wrenched-up feeling I got when I thought about how Bill had used me: sometimes I felt powerless and worthless, like the whole episode had been my fault. The same sort of fears raced through Eric now. "I gave you forever." Appius said. "Don't debase my gift. Don't debase yourself."

Eric said something in that foreign language Appius had first spoken. He didn't want me to understand him, but his emotions were clear enough. I could feel his humiliation through the bond. Humiliation and dull rage.

Appius responded in English, probably to egg Eric on. "You are not like her." Eric began to reply in that foreign language, but Appius cut him off. "I made you better than human." Appius jerked my arm around and threw me on the ground. I scrambled up. I dug through the pocket trying to get some purchase on Eric's ziplock with silver. "Drain her," Appius said. "Free yourself."

It was a direct order.

Eric spoke to Appius in the foreign language. From his tone, it sounded like a protest. I hoped it was a protest. Appius barked a reply back, unintelligible, in the language they both shared. I figured it was something along the lines of the old _'as your maker, I command you' _because as soon as the words left his mouth, Eric moved at vampire speed.

I knew Eric couldn't say no, but that didn't make it any less terrible when he slid his fangs into my throat. He chose the opposite side from where Appius had bitten me earlier. I could tell he was trying to make this as easy for me as possible. It felt nothing like the times we'd done this before, in bed, or when we were making love in the shower, on the kitchen table, in any number of our other various locales. The bite felt like a burn, his fangs sharp pains. For Eric, blood was blood. He groaned and I could feel him getting excited against me.

I fumbled in my pocket and freed Eric's silver from its ziplock baggy. I slammed it into his face. He roared and released me. I scooted away, but I was only a foot or two free of Eric, before Appius pinned me.

As he sunk my teeth into his throat, I got a flash from his brain. It was one of those few moments when I could 'hear' vampire thoughts. This time, I got a picture: Appius imagined kicking a corpse—my corpse—in an open grave before getting in the grave himself. I had never seen the exact ritual for turning, but I couldn't imagine what else it would be. Why would Appius wanted to turn me? To torture Eric? To punish me for my defiance in the car? As some sick gift to Eric? I didn't know. What I did know is when Appius sunk his fangs into his wrist, I had to get away as fast as I could.

My 'could' was far from fast enough. Appius grabbed my chin and forced his wrist to my lips. I tried to slam my mouth and teeth shut, but he pried at them with his free fingers and some of his blood got in me anyway. It tasted almost sickly sweet and was thick as maple syrup. I tried to push away but his grip was like a vice and he used the opportunity to push his arm even deeper into my mouth. I could barely breathe. I was having a lot of his blood. Too much.

Suddenly, Appius released me. I saw a flash of silver and smelt burning. I realized Eric had roped him with the chain I'd used on him earlier. I felt a flash of affirmation, panic through the bond—I couldn't define it fully, but it was enough energy to get me to my feet.

I ran. I couldn't escape, but I only needed to get so far. I hadn't exerted myself like this since softball in high school. Just think of it as home plate, Sookie, I told myself as I made a dive—more like a running trip—for the pile of shattered light-tight shudders I had thrown at Eric earlier that evening. Appius launched himself on me—a blur—but I grabbed one of the fragments of shudder. He bit down, tearing another hole in my neck. He pinned one of my hands over my head as he drank, but luckily it was the wrong hand, the hand without the wood. I slammed the shutter shard into his ribcage and pressed forward. "You aren't better than me."

The stake slid into him, easy as a knife cutting butter. He froze and let go of my hand. I clapped it over the hole he'd just torn in my throat. I felt blood glugging out, making the space between my fingers sticky. "You will die," he said. "Today or in fifty years." Then he crumbled. It was two thousand year of decay stuffed into two seconds. A layer of ash fell on top of me, where his body had been. I sneezed. It was worse than pollen.

My eyes wouldn't focus. I felt asking them to stay put but they slid away, dawdling in opposite directions and giving my brain a blur to work with. Something dark loomed over me, lending coherence to the mess I saw. When I felt fear pulse through the bond, I figured the dark shadow was Eric. I summoned extra energy to focus on him just in time to see him sink his fangs into his wrist. He dangled it over me, dribbling on my face. "Sookie, you have to drink."

I shut my mouth and tried to scoot away. "Don't turn me," I said, or thought. I don't know how much of it came out. I flashed back to the image I had seen in Appius's head. "He wanted to turn me."

Eric slid out of focus, things went black, maybe time passed, maybe it was an instant, and I felt something warm and wet press against my mouth. Liquid dribbled down my jaw. Someone—Eric—grabbed my chin and forced my mouth open.

I tried to spit it out. "I don't want to drink blood."

"Drink or you will die." Eric yanked my head back by the hair, so that the blood would slip down my throat.

"Stop," I tried to say, but there was too much blood to get words out or air in.

_Next chapter is the last : it takes place three days (or nights?) later. Expect it before _Dead in the Family.

_Thanks for reading and for the reviews._

_Belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO._


	17. Monday Night, Again

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the tube coming out of my nose. Then I noticed a white plaster lump in front of my face. When it started to hurt, I realized the lump was my leg, it was broken, and it was hanging from the ceiling in a sling. I didn't know when I had broken my leg and I didn't care.

I was in the hospital.

I felt like laughing. I wasn't dead. I wanted someone to celebrate with. "Eric?"

"Not quite," said a voice beside me. I turned to see a pair of violet eyes. "Hi, babe."

Scratch that: maybe I was dead, because there was no way this could be happening. If this was heaven, God had a sick sense of humor. If it was hell, well then, well played, Satan, well played.

"I hope you're not too upset," Quinn said, with that smile that used to make my stomach flip flop. Now, it nose-dived.

The jury was still out on how upset I was. The options varied between very, extremely, and Jesus H. Christ. "How long have I been out?"

"It's Monday," Quinn said. "So all weekend. You lost a lot of blood and then you had to lose it all over again."

"Excuse me?"

Quinn looked uncomfortable. "I shouldn't be the one telling you this."

"You're the only one here." I was bitter about it too. Where was Eric? What time was it? "Is Eric all right?"

Quinn looked even more uncomfortable. "He brought you in. He's sleeping now, it's about four. He took one of the coolers in the morgue downstairs. I'm the day rotation."

A lot had happened while I was asleep, if Quinn was my day guard. I didn't know if Quinn was joking about Eric sleeping in the morgue or not. I decided that I didn't want, or need, to know the details. "Sorry to be rude, but why are you here?"

"I was as surprised as you are, babe," Quinn said. "Seems like Eric called in a favor with Victor Madden to get me shipped out from Vegas. He said I was the only person he'd trust to watch you during the day."

I gaped at Quinn. I couldn't believe Eric had done that for several reasons. First off, I flat-out couldn't believe Eric had done it, but since it seemed pretty apparent that he had, I didn't know what to make of it. On one hand, it was a huge step for Eric since he'd basically exiled Quinn from Area 5 for no reason other than jealousy. But on the other, forcing a woman's ex-lover to watch her with her current lover slash husband was a new level of perverse. I knew enough about the Nevada vamps to know they hadn't given Quinn a chance to say no. "I'm sorry he made you do that."

"Don't be," he said. "I'm glad to see you. I regret our last meeting, Sookie."

I regretted it too, but I didn't want to rehash it. But since there was no way I could get out of the hospital bed and Quinn made no sign of leaving, I didn't have much of a choice. "You said some pretty cruel things, but they weren't undeserved."

Quinn shook his head. "I think they were pretty undeserved. At any rate, it wasn't how I wanted to leave things."

I nodded. "Me neither."

"I'm sorry, Sookie."

"Me too."

And that was that. Quinn was silent. I stared up at the tile ceiling. I wanted to see Eric. "You say I was out for the whole weekend?"

"They moved you out of intensive care yesterday," Quinn said and I winced. I didn't want to think about whether or not my insurance company would cover yet another hospital trip. Considering the amount of time I spent nearly dying, I probably needed to think about upgrading to the high-risk insurance they gave to firemen and police officers. "You had to have multiple blood transfusions."

"Why? Because I'd lost so much?"

"And because Eric fed you loose blood."

That set off my uh-oh meter. In my experience, blood was never 'loose' for any benign reason. "What's loose blood? He _fed_ me?" It was all I could do to stop myself from saying _ew_.

"It was literally loose blood. Blood from blood bags."

"Where'd he get it?"

Quinn shrugged. "He's a vampire, who knows?"

"Didn't the doctors ask?"

"I got here after they'd brought you in and I wasn't taking notes," Quinn said. "You almost died. He fed you and tried to transfuse you, but it was the wrong type."

"I can only take type O," I said.

"_I_ know that," Quinn said. "Eric didn't. You went into shock." Quinn sighed. "You know I'm not one to defend Eric, babe, but back when he was alive, medicine was praying to the sun god." I didn't know if the Vikings had a 'sun god,' but I took Quinn's point. We'd come a long time in the thousand years since Eric last worried about human injuries. We were quiet for a minute as I ran over what Quinn had told me. I'd work out the potentially troublesome provenance of the 'loose blood' later, right now the most important thing seemed to be that Eric hadn't given me _his_ blood. He hadn't tried to turn me. I didn't even really care about whatever weird medical emergency had happened as a result, I was still alive. Eric had worked to keep me there.

Quinn broke the silence. "What happened?"

Because Quinn was my ex, I didn't want to tell him about the fight with Appius. There was no reason to burden him with the knowledge that Eric's maker had attacked us because of our relationship. It would probably make him feel rotten. So I lied. "Car crash," I flashed back to Appius driving Eric's corvette into my kitchen. Jeez, now I had to worry about property insurance too. My rates were going to go through the roof, as would my car insurance. All my vampire emergencies had led to two so-called "crashes" in as many months. At least I didn't have to worry about insurance until I bought a new car. I imagined my bank balance dwindling before my eyes. Quinn gave me a skeptical look, so I added, "The brake broke."

He didn't believe me, but he respected me enough not to push further. Quinn leaned back in his chair. I could tell he wanted to say something. I guessed it wasn't anything I would like, but as I watched him wrestle with himself, I figured it'd be better for both of us if he got it off his chest. "Spit it out."

"Do you ever wonder," Quinn said, "if it'd been a different time and if the vamps hadn't interfered—"

He didn't finish the question, but he didn't need to. Yes, I did wonder. The deck had been stacked against us from the beginning, but the few times Quinn and I had been together without fighting for our lives, it felt like the beginning of a good thing. Quinn had betrayed me, but I could forgive him because he hadn't had a choice. It had probably been a mistake to break up with him because he cared about his family, but it didn't change the way things were now. I was with Eric. Even now, aching from my various injuries, I also ached for him.

It was a fact that I could have everything with Quinn that I couldn't with Eric. We would age together. We could have children. I had no question that Quinn would view me as an equal partner. We would be a 'real' family. Even personality-wise, Quinn was less of a risk. He was exciting, but not dangerous. He was powerful, but not power-hungry. If it was just a question of thinking logically, Quinn made all the sense in the world. On paper.

"No," I lied. "I don't wonder." Quinn's face crumpled. "Quinn, you're going to find yourself a great, lucky woman and make her very happy. But that person isn't me. I'm sorry." It's what he needed to hear to move on. And it was what I needed to hear myself say, too. I loved Eric. It didn't make any sense, and it logically, it didn't seem sustainable, but I didn't want to be with anyone else. Problems remained that we'd maybe never solve (what would it mean for us when I aged and he didn't?) but I'd rather not solve them with Eric than fake solve them by not even trying.

"All right, babe." Quinn squeezed my shoulder. "Thanks for being straight with me." I nodded.

On cue, Eric filled the doorway. Quinn took his hand off my shoulder as if I'd burned him. "She's awake," he said.

Eric crossed his arms. He didn't like that Quinn had been touching me. "I can see that."

"Hi," I said to him, trying to sit up in bed. I was so glad to see him I felt warm and almost giddy. Some of my happiness leaked out through the bond.

A smile crept across Eric's face. "Hi."

"I'll be outside," Quinn said, probably figuring it would be a good time to excuse himself. I felt guilty, but I couldn't stop grinning at Eric. I couldn't believe that we were both alive.

Still leaning in the door, Eric stepped out of the way to let Quinn pass. They were both exceptionally tall men. Quinn was actually a little taller than Eric, but Eric was doing his best loom to try and distract from the fact. The doorframe was almost too small for them. Quinn wouldn't look at Eric directly as he passed by, but Eric still felt the need to lean out the door to watch him leave. When he was satisfied that Quinn was outside the acceptable alpha male radius or whatever it was that he needed to do, Eric shut the door.

"Get over here," I said, reaching for him.

Eric took the chair Quinn had vacated. When I shook my head, he moved onto the side of the bed. "You're awake," he said. "I thought you would die."

"I'm still here." I took his hand. He squeezed it and traced a circle on my palm. "Thank you for getting me here. You saved my life."

"Thank you for Appius."

"It was self defense," I said. "Thank you for not turning me."

Eric shrugged. "It was self defense."

I laughed. From Quinn's story about the mysterious 'loose blood,' it sounded like Eric had gone to absurd lengths not to turn me. He wasn't getting off that easy. "You didn't take advantage the situation. You could have justified doing whatever you wanted."

"I did what I wanted," Eric said. "I want you as you are."

I felt like my heart would burst in my chest. "Eric—"

"Sookie, let me finish," he said. "You make me feel things I don't understand and do things that are not smart. My situation is more precarious than it has been in hundreds of years and somehow I am happier than I have been in as long as I can remember."

"You make me happy too, Eric."

He squeezed my hand. "You are not safe for me, Sookie. I defied Felipe for you and although the situation with Victor is evolving, it is far from over." He looked grim. "I am not smart, where you are concerned. I act against the instincts that have kept me alive for the last thousand years."

I laughed and gestured at the hanging cast. "You're not safe for me either, Eric. I know Appius isn't going to be the end of it. As long as I've known you, people have been trying to kill me. I don't like it, but I'm through with running away from a situation because it's not perfect."

"I have spent a lot of time thinking about why I want you so much." Eric's bluntness surprised me, but I also liked it.

"Have you figured anything out?"

He gave me one of his dirty grins and groped me, more gently than usual, probably in deference to the hospital bed. "Other than the obvious?" Before I could give him a look, he continued. "You surprise me. When I am with you, I surprise myself. After a thousand years, that is—"

"Surprising?" I finished.

"Special." He laid down next to me. I scooted over as far as my leg would allow to give him room. He draped his arm over my torso.

"You're part of me, Eric," I said. "Not just because of the blood, but because I want you to be. I need you to be. You're part of my life."

"Good," he said and kissed my ear.

I twined my fingers in his hair. "What happened after I passed out?"

"You were close to gone," Eric said. "You needed blood. If I replaced it with mine, I would have likely turned you. I was very upset. I didn't know what to do. You'd rescinded my invitation, so I could not get the True Blood in your home. Then, I remembered Bill's treatment."

I gawked at him. "The treatment you kidnapped Andy Bellefleur for?"

"No, the treatment I kidnapped Sam Merlotte for," Eric said, giving me a panic attack until I realized he was joking. I smacked him and he gave me a big smile.

"You gave me Andy Bellefleur's blood?"

"Doctor Ludwig did all the tests, it was safe," Eric said. "Bill's treatment was done for the day. It was that, or find a human."

"Which you wouldn't have done?"

"Probably not," he shrugged. "It ended up being a mistake. I fed you and Ludwig had equipment so I—"

I cut him off. I didn't need to hear him go into the grisly details. "Why did you _feed_ me Andy's blood?"

"I didn't know how far gone you were," he said. "I wasn't thinking clearly. Honestly, I don't know how these things work. I have never healed a human without vampire blood. I did not know you needed a specific type."

Considering how much time Eric spent thinking about blood, I found that almost unbelievable. "What do you think the letters on the True Bloods are?"

"Flavors," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You got sick immediately, so I called Sam Merlotte. He called an ambulance. The doctors thought I had attacked you so I had to tell them the full story."

"Even the part about Andy Bellefleur's blood?"

"I told them Bill had an arrangement with a blood bank."

"Did you glamour them?"

"I didn't need to. Sam Merlotte said he'd witnessed the attack." Sam had lied to help Eric. I couldn't believe it. As soon as I got out of here, I needed to call and thank him.

"You must have made quite an impression on him," I said to Eric.

Eric shrugged. "I was very upset. I do not remember what I said. You were in surgery when we got to the hospital."

Eric had said the s-word. My insurance premium was going to go through the roof. "They didn't let you ride in the ambulance?"

"We're not legal next-of-kin."

"You are," I said. "What about the knife?"

"It's not a State of Louisiana marriage," he said. "Sam did not let me argue. We got to the hospital and I called Victor for Quinn."

"Why?"

"He is the strongest were I know and personally invested in your safety," Eric said. "I also wanted to show you that I trust you."

"So you were trying to manipulate me into thinking you were easygoing by lifting the travel ban on my ex?"

"It was mostly the safety issues, but that was a secondary concern, yes," Eric said. "I like being high-handed. I am good at it and I am almost always right, but I sometimes regret certain choices."

I felt a chill, probably from hell freezing over. "Apology accepted."

"So you still choose me?" Eric wasn't doing a very good job of hiding his smirk.

I wrapped my arms against him and buried my face in his chest. "Shut up. You wouldn't have let him come if you thought there was any chance that I wouldn't."

He smiled wider. "So you do choose me?

"Of course I do." I kissed him.

He slid his hands around to the backless side of my hospital gown. "The tiger did not sweep you off your feet? You are not going to go away to make kittens?" Eric was obviously not willing to let it go until he'd cracked a few cat jokes.

"Don't make me tell you again," I growled as Eric began to untie the few strings standing between me and my birthday suit. It was sort of a logistical nightmare because my leg was dangling in the air. The cast brought me back to reality. "Wait, wait. We're not done. When did I break my leg?"

"Falling on the shudders," he said.

The shudders had been an incredible stroke of luck. "Thank goodness I threw them at you."

"Yes, if you hadn't tried to kill me, we would have died." He kissed my forehead.

The mention of death made me feel serious. "Why didn't you turn me, Eric, really? You could have. It would have been easier, but you went out of your way not to—"

"I thought about overruling you," he said.

"Why didn't you?"

"You don't want it," he said.

"Is that all?"

"No." Eric turned away from me and stared at the ceiling. He was quiet for a few seconds and I let him sit in it. "A thousand years is a long time to be alive. After a while, it doesn't feel like life anymore. There is no risk, no urgency. I made Pam to find something new." He paused. "I am not human, Sookie. I do not want to be. But I do want to live."

"I do too," I said. "I don't want things to freeze. That's the reason, a reason, I don't want to be turned."

"I understand," Eric said. He ran his hand through my hair. "I can't control you. Nor do I want to. Maybe for a while I thought I did, but not being able to makes me feel—" He stopped and pulled my head to his chest "It makes me feel. I am surprised. I feel alive. Time is precious."

I ached for him. I kissed him. I let my distrust go and let myself be with him for what he was.

After some kisses, Eric picked the talking back up again. "I have a question. How did you know Appius planned to turn you?"

This was a biggie. I could lie and say I had guessed it. I had resolved to never tell Eric, or any vampire, about the flashes I sometimes got from their minds, but that was before we had grown as close as we were now. Eric had just been frank with me. "I read his mind," I said. I braced myself for something, but Eric only stiffened. "It's happened a handful of times. In flashes. Once at Rhodes, during Sophie-Anne's trial. I said I read the lawyer's mind, but it was Henrick's."

"Have you ever read my mind?" Eric asked. He was tense.

"Once," I said. "The first or second time we met. It was the night you staked Longshadow. I bargained with you to—"

"Turn the thief over to the police, I remember."

"You thought you could manipulate me into helping by threatening Bill or someone I loved."

"I still took your deal."

"Because you were mainstreaming," I said. "I don't mean to accuse you. It's what I heard."

Eric shrugged. "Apparently, it's what I thought."

He looked grim. I wondered if it had been a mistake to tell him. I started to backpedal. "It doesn't happen frequently enough to be useful. I never get a clear picture."

"I understand why you did not tell me this before," Eric said. His tone was deliberate, as if he were selecting each word after testing it in his head. "I appreciate you telling me now." He paused. "I used to want to read your thoughts."

"You said." I had thought it was strange when he told me, in the shower at Bill's house.

"You are very difficult," he said, as if that explained anything.

"You could have asked me what I was thinking."

"Then you would make me talk," he said.

"So you wanted a one-way street?"

He laughed and kissed me. "For a while."

"You and highhanded," I said, slipping my arm around his waist and down past the waistband of his jeans.

Eric groaned and kissed me. "Yes," he said. "That is a good word for me." He put his hand on my wrist, stilling me. "Sookie, there is something I would like to ask you."

I froze. I was worried he was going to ask me to read some vampire's thoughts. "I'm serious when I say it almost never happens—"

Eric cut me off. "I would like us to get married."

Only Eric would ask me to marry him in a statement. "We are married."

"_Your_ married," he said. "State of Louisiana married. It is already March and it will likely only be legal until the next election, so I suggest we do it soon. I have already gotten a license." I gave him a look. Didn't bride and groom have to apply in person for a marriage license? I was sure Eric had gone about getting it in his usual wriggly way. "What?" he said. "We were talking about highhanded and how much you like it."

That was a selective retelling of our conversation. "If you keep being highhanded, you will have to go one-handed," I said, moving my hand to show him what I meant.

He smiled and kissed my chin. "Empty threats."

It was true. At this point, his doggedness was almost endearing. "Tell me why you want to do it."

"We are already married in my way," he said. "I want to be married in your way as well."

"You don't care about human customs."

"No," he agreed. "But I care about you." He paused. "There are also tax credits involved."

I stared at him. "You're kidding me."

"Sookie, when you run several businesses, these are things to consider. Bruce tells me—" he trailed off when he saw the look on my face. "Taxes are not the primary reason I want to remarry you," he amended.

"Eric," I began, figuring his name was safe. I couldn't really think of how best express what I was feeling to myself, let alone to him. I sort of, but not really, wished he could read my mind. "I think we've figured this out best we can. I feel married to you. I don't want anyone else. I want to spend my life with you, however long it is. I don't need someone else, especially the State of Louisiana, telling me that you're my husband. I say you are. You know you are."

Eric pulled me close to him, or as close as we could get, with my broken leg suspended from the ceiling. "If you feel all that, what does it matter?"

"The newspapers—"

"Are not as bad as everything else we've faced."

"We're already married," I said. That was my main objection. "When you pulled the stunt with the knife, before or after, we weren't married. But ever since we've been outed and we've had to figure things out, I feel like we understand each other better. Now, I feel married."

"Yes," Eric agreed. "This is the icing on the cake that lets me get my tax credit."

How could I argue with that? "I give up."

"I want to hear you say yes."

"Fine," I said, rolling away from him and putting my hands over my eyes. "Yes. All right? Yes."

Eric peeled back my hands. "The justice of the peace is in the waiting room."

It never stopped. "Don't you have you go to City Hall?"

"You might. I don't."

"So you had him here all this time, not knowing if I would say yes or not?"

Eric smirked. "He is a her. And I wouldn't call it 'not knowing.'"

I shook my head. I had really gotten myself into it, but somehow, I didn't mind. "Okay, I'll do it, but I have some conditions. Quinn can't be our witness. We're going to ask one of the nurses. Also, Quinn can't know. Tell him the judge is my pastor or something."

"Done," Eric said, and kissed me. When we broke off, he snaked his fingers in mine. "You will like joint-filing."

I laughed. Only he could make taxes sound sexy. "Sure, but you're going to catapult me into a higher income bracket. I can do without giving thirty-percent of my money to Uncle Sam."

"Our money." Eric wrapped his arm around me.

"Our," I agreed, as I ran my hand through his hair. "Us," I tried out the pronouns.

He laughed. "Is this an English lesson, lover?"

"It's whatever you want it to be," I said, and kissed him.

* * *

_Belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO_

_So this is it. Thank you all so much for reading and for the reviews. I really appreciate it. They've been great to read over the past few months. I hope you've had as much fun with this as I did writing it. I don't have plans to write a sequel, but will keep writing, possibly about their income taxes. _

_Here's looking forward to _Dead in the Family_._


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